Half as Much
by Tensleep
Summary: Life never stays the same for Buck, but change isn't always a good thing. Post novel.
1. Chapter 1

Alright, I know I need another story like I need a hole in the head, but this is something I have had in my head for a long time. Buck is one character I have always liked because there's so little on him that you can do pretty well anything with him that you want. And he's a cowboy! How can you not love him?

Anyways, special thanks go out to Alsonny who went over this for me and made it make sense! Yes, she so got stuck with that, haha.

Disclaimer: Well, the usual. S.E. Hinton owns the Outsiders. The title for this story was a Hank Williams song title, so I am just borrowing that, too. The rest is my imagination :).

On with the show!

Prologue

When you run a bar, you have to expect for certain level of give and take. For example, if you give an inch, everyone takes a mile, and no one seemed to take more than Pete Granger. It wasn't that things went missing, it was that a lot of the work he was supposed to do usually fell on my shoulders. That wasn't right when you were the boss of the place, but lucky for Pete's hide, he was essential to running the bar and I wasn't about to get rid of him.

Still, no thanks to him I was on my hands and knees with a bucket of dirty water and an old rag, scrubbing at something he'd spilled earlier. Damn Pete. It seemed to me that if it involved a little elbow grease, he was physically unable to do it.

I leaned back on my haunches, looking to make sure the mess was gone. It was late in the season, but knowing the Merrill luck the way I did, ants were always a possibility. Damn Pete. How many times had I told him just that? If we got ants, it was on his head this time around. Damn moron could deal with it himself.

Satisfied that it was clean, I pushed myself to my feet, hearing my knees crack as I straightened out. It was nearing three AM, and the place had cleared out not too long ago. Not that it had been hoppin' or anything; not with that big rumble going on tonight. There was a class fight over some dead kid – Rob Skelton or something like that. Saw his face in the paper, and I thought it was a damn shame he had to go. He'd been in here a once, and let me tell you, he was my kind of guy—paid for everything in cash as he drank it. That was a sight more than I could offer for my regulars. They seemed to think a tab was some infinite thing you never had to worry over. Starting tomorrow, I was gonna start calling them in. Not only did I need the money, the kicks would be worth it.

Wiping off my hands, I made my way out of the back room and into the main barroom, taking in the mess to be had. There were bottles and mugs on every table, spills underneath a good few of them, and cards scattered. The pool tables were in disarray, and there were at least five ashtrays that needed emptying. Yep, just another night at Buck's. Pete and Greg would clean house tomorrow; if they still wanted jobs, that is. I put up with a lot from Pete, and sometimes Greg, but a messy establishment was not one of them.

"Well, that's as good as it's gonna stay." I sighed, moving to turn off the lights so I could get some sleep.

But it seemed like my night wasn't quite over yet, because just then someone hammered on the door. I grumbled and rubbed at my eyes.

"We're closed," I hollered.

The knocking got louder and more persistent. I wondered how long they'd keep at it, but I had the feeling I wasn't going to get a wink until I opened the damn door and told whoever it was to scram.

But when I opened it, I was surprised. Mainly, when people came knocking this late, it was because they were drunk enough not to know that closed meant closed. Or they thought they lived here, which was always an interesting conversation.

But never before had Sylvia come rapping on my door like this. I didn't like what that could mean. Her brown hair was a mess, her makeup was tracked down her face by the tears she'd shed, and she looked like someone had crushed her world. Lordy, she was a sight. I wondered if someone had jumped her. Or maybe she and Dallas were done for good this time. Either way, I let her in. And with that, any sleep I had been planning on was getting went right out the window.

"Syl, what the hell happened to you?" I demanded, locking the door behind her.

Sylvia just shook her head, running a hand through her disarrayed hair. I felt like growling, I was too grumpy to be playing the guessing game.

"Syl? Goddamnit, girl," I cursed. I was not in the mood for this.

"Dal got into trouble," she finally rasped.

"He's always in trouble," I sighed, and she glared at me like I had said something really offensive.

"Not like this time, Buck. This time, it got him dead."

I blinked. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Everyone knew that if someone was gunning for Dallas Winston's hide, he'd be here in a shot. That was usually a problem, since everyone knew how to find him, and it sure made a hell of a mess for me. But I hadn't seen a hide nor hair of him, or anyone looking for him, so he was fine. Syl was just being a drama queen. She was the one who probably wanted him dead in the first place.

"Don't you get it, you know-nothing hick? He's dead!" Her hand twisted in her hair, and she gave me a glare. "Dallas is DEAD."

I blinked, really listening to her. No, she had to be wrong. If that kid had died, half of Tulsa would have been in flames, and the other half would have been taken out in the blast with him. Nothing was going to take that kid down without a fight.

"He's dead!" she snapped at me, her hands beating at my chest. "He's dead! He's...he's..."

She broke off with a sob, and suddenly I had my arms full of crying girl. Syl was like my kid sister, so I wrapped my arms around her shoulders awkwardly and let her cry. All the while, I was trying to get my head around the fact Dallas Winston was gone.

One thing was for sure—Tulsa was never going to be the same again.

* * *

Yeah, my Buck? Tad on the grumpy side :).

Any comments are welcome and flames are accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


	2. Chapter 2

Well, another chapter down. Thanks to everyone who favorited and reviewed. Also, speacial thanks to Alsonny for editing this one, too.

Disclaimer: The usual. Those of you who have read DV will probably recognize Jeff, who I do own and have a soft spot for. So he will be very present in this story.

On with the show

Chapter 1 - Two Years Later

"Damnit, Pete!" I yelled. "That's it! You're fired! Get the hell out of my bar!"

Pete Granger sighed, a big, lazy smirk on his face as he leaned against the bar counter. He was giving me a look, like I was a child throwing a tantrum. Well, I wasn't a child, and this wasn't a tantrum. I was done with him and his crap.

"Buck," he said, trying for his best, patronizing voice. "Listen, why don't we talk about this?"

I glared at Pete. He figured himself good looking, he figured himself a ladies' man, he figured himself above work, and he figured himself above me. That made him lazy and unreliable to the point where he did shit all around the bar. Still, I kept him around. It was mostly that I just couldn't manage this bar on my own, and finding anyone in this city worth their salt when it came to work was a challenge.

Today, though ... I just didn't care about any of that shit.

"There's nothing to talk about, you jackass. Get out."

"Take it easy, Buck. Man, you've been hitting the sauce earlier and earlier lately," Pete drawled. "So why don't you head on to bed, and we'll talk more tomorrow?"

I glared at Pete, really hating the guy. This was how he had been treating me lately—flippantly, as if he were the boss and I were his lowly employee.

But that wasn't why I was firing him.

"My drinking habits are none of your damn business. And we will talk. Now."

"Ok," Pete sighed. "Let's talk."

"I am firing you. Why? Well, I went through the inventory and the tabs from last month. What do you think I found, Pete?"

Pete didn't say anything, clearly knowing that there was nothing he could say that would keep him out of the hole with me. This wasn't the first time I had found him skimming from the stock, but I had always been too lazy to do anything about it. I couldn't afford to be that way, not anymore.

"I thought so. Out."

"Buck..."

"I said out!"

Pete looked at me for a few long moments before sighing, like he was still patronizing a child.

"Fine, but you'll be hollering for me sooner or later."

I didn't bother saying anything in reply to that. I just let him leave and muttered a few curse words over things.

It was less than a minute later that there was loud stomping down the stairs. Then heels clicked across the floor with purpose, and I looked up to see my woman, Carmen, coming towards me with anger in her eyes. She was radiating it.

Now, Carmen wasn't anything more than a rodeo tramp who liked to dress up and buy things, but I loved her anyways. Or at least I did, up until the past weekend.

See, I had known about Carmen and Pete for a while. It bothered me, but it was never something to get my dander up about, because there was no point. But to actually walk in on them, to see her and him together, crushed every hope I had been keeping that she would come back to me and we could start over. I was done with Pete, and I was done keeping her as a kept woman, too.

"Ya fired Pete?" she demanded, coming to a stop right in front of me with her blue eyes flashing and her curly, red hair bouncing. "Are you insane?"

Yeah, she sure was pissed. All 5'4 of her.

"No, I'm pretty sure I'm sane."

"Well, you're somethin' alright! What the hell were you thinking? Pete runs this place, Buck!" She shook her head, so much like Pete I wanted to curse her. "He practically pulled you out of debt two years ago, and you repay him by shoving him out into the cold?"

"He tell you that?" I asked, thinking that would be like Pete.

"He didn't have to. You were a memorable drunk, Buck. And from the way people tell it, you could barely keep track of a tab, let alone drinks or inventory or your own damn shoes! So Pete did it for you."

Pete didn't do anything for me.

Pete watched as I drank myself stupid after Dallas died. It had taken Darry Curtis dropping in and telling me I was a fuck up to get me to slow down on the booze. I think if it had been anyone but Darry, I would have ignored them. But Darry knew Dallas. Darry knew where I was coming from. Darry knew the right way to put it.

And sober, it sure as hell sucked, but after two years of it, I couldn't imagine going back to the booze.

"Well, I'm sober now," I told her. "Sober enough to be a big boy and run things on my own."

"You're an idiot."

"And you're two timin' me."

Carmen gaped at me. I'd never said anything like that to her before. In fact, I was a total pushover for her. And now that I wasn't, she was giving me a look that pretty much would have put me six feet under in another life.

"How dare you!"

"How dare I?" I levelled her with a look. "You call yourself my woman, but you're screwin' Pete behind my back. You don't get much lower than that."

The pissy look on her face was one I always caved for, but not today. She seemed to get I wasn't backing off, so she set her hands on her hips and looked me over.

"Why wouldn't I choose him? You ain't much."

I smirked then. I wasn't often a selfish or mean person, but I was feeling pretty well within my rights just then.

"Well, I may not be much, but I own this bar. And I think it is high time that you found somewhere else to hang your hat."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

I thought she would back down or cry or something. What she did was rear her hand back like she was going to hit me. I caught her wrist before she could hit my face; any and all sympathy I had for her flew out the window right then. I tugged her along behind me, intent on getting her out of my bar. She screeched, howled, bucked, gouged, and kicked, but I ignored it, dragging her along with me. When I got to the front door, I hauled it open and let her go. It really wasn't my fault she lost her balance and landed in the dirt at the bottom of the stairs.

I ducked back into the bar, picking up the bags of clothes I had packed that morning when this plan had come to me. Without hesitation, I lobbed them around where Carmen was shrieking in the dirt. I turned my back on her and sharply closed the front doors behind me.

I could still hear her yelling at me, calling me a fool. I sighed. I was starting to feel like a fool. I was essentially the staff now. Greg had taken off when I had started drinking heavy a couple years ago, and Joe Kemp died last spring, leaving just me and Pete. Now it was just me. That hadn't ever been the case. It was doable, but it was a hell of a lot of work.

Damn Pete.

I sighed, deciding to go upstairs and find myself a siesta. If I was closing on my own, I was going to need it. Thank god I had thought this whole Pete business through and tossed him out well before we had customers. The last thing I needed was a scene when there was an audience to be had.

My rooms were on the third floor of the bar. Granddaddy believed that the bar should be as authentic as it was back in 1852 when it was first built. But the old man had caved thirty years ago and had the apartment built up on the third floor. It was nothing fancy – a living room, small kitchen, two bedrooms, and a bathroom between them. It was small, cosy, and home. And it seemed a hell of a lot bigger without all of Carmen's damn clothes everywhere. But now that she was gone, it did feel like home, like it had when it had been just Granddaddy and me. I had scoffed at the idea of a home for a long time before I came to be here, but now I really liked having some place to hang my hat at night. Maybe I was just getting soft.

I moved through the small apartment, deciding to head for my room. I kept it simple. The bed and the bedside table were the focal points of the room. There was a dresser in the closet, and a chair in the corner with my saddle, Stetson, and boots on it.

I flopped on the bed and glanced at the Max Brand novel sitting beside the framed photo on the bedside table. I turned my attention from the book I wanted to read, to the photo I kept of a time I wished I could go back to. The shot was of the three of us Merrill boys sitting on the tailgate of Daddy's truck. Trip was sitting between Sandy and me, an arm around each of our necks like we were his favourite people in the world. Back then, I reckon we were. Sandy was fourteen, I was thirteen, and Trip was either eight or nine. Trip was one of those kids with perpetual energy, and he looked like he was particularly sugared up that day. Sandy just looked tired, like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders already, but he was still going to smile for the picture. And me, heck, I just looked annoyed. I was at that age where all Daddy's bullshit was really starting to get to me. I'd learned to ask "why" and then I'd learned to shut up. It had been a hard year, but Sandy and Trip made everything alright.

Two years later, Sandy was dead, I was shipped off to Tulsa, and Trip was with Daddy non-stop, so who knew how the hell he turned out. It had been years since I'd seen the little whelp.

I turned my attention to the ceiling then, watching the shadows caused by the slats in the blinds. This was where I did my best thinking. I needed a nap, but my head was still trying to figure out some things.

The bar was going to be insane tonight. I was going to have to find a pad of paper, put on a pot of coffee, and keep a couple sodas on hand so I wouldn't drink. Then I'd need a stack of bibles for luck, because prayer was the only way tonight was going to go off without a hitch.

I blew out a long breath of air and closed my eyes. I needed that nap more than I needed to think. I'd figure everything out later.

As it turned out, I was no closer to figuring things out that night. The bar was just as insane as I knew it would be, and it was taking everything I had just to keep up with it.

"Buck, you really don't have this bar bit figured out, do you?" one of my regulars asked, watching me pour another drink for another customer with a huge tab.

"It's been a while," I replied, shoving the drink off and moving to put the bottle back on the shelf under the counter.

I had been busy all night trying to reorganize the shelf around pouring drinks. Pete had no clue how to keep his booze straight. He had Brandy with Vodka, Whiskey with Bourbon, Sherry with Beer. It made no sense whatsoever. Granddaddy taught me early on that if your shelf wasn't organized, your night was going to be hell. He was right.

"What happened to Pete?" I heard the same guy ask and offered up a sigh.

"I sent him packing," I replied, sorting the bottles.

The easiest way for me to find things was to sort the lights and the darks from each other. If you knew the color of booze you were looking for, you were in business. Then, I kept the most ordered stuff towards the front, least at the back, and plenty of extra on hand. I liked that system. It was Granddaddy's before mine, and it worked. Damn Pete didn't have a clue. Damn Pete.

"Shame," Bill or whatever his name was sighed. "Pete sure could mix a drink."

I glanced over the counter at where Bill was studying his drink. 'It's a whiskey on the rocks."

"Pete's tasted better," he argued.

I didn't bother arguing. I just went back to sorting bottles, knowing that this night was going to drag on and on.

"Hey, Buck!"

Yes, on and on...

"What, Jeff?" I sighed, not looking up.

"Why are you hiding down there, Pard?" Jeff asked, leaning over the counter so he could see me.

I glanced up at Jeff Kelly. He was the only person I went to high school with that I still talked to. That was mainly because he ran the Slash J stables. Granddaddy and two other guys were the owners, so I had inherited his share when he died. That's when I had recommended Jeff for stable master. He wasn't long on brains, and he had no people sense, but Jeff was the best hand with horses I had ever seen. So I ran the paperwork side of things, and usually ended up seeing him at least once a day when he came running in with some administrative problem that needed my attention. Most days I didn't mind, but tonight, I had far too much on my plate to be dealing with Jeff properly.

"I'm not hiding, Jeff. What do you need me for?"

"Well, rodeo's coming up in a few weeks, and we haven't hired anyone to organize the set up yet."

"And you couldn't have dropped by to discuss this in the afternoon?" I sighed.

"You're here now," Jeff offered. "So what're we going to do?"

"I keep telling you, Jeff – this isn't your first show, and you should be keeping a list of people you can call up for things like this."

"And you keep assumin' they'll give me their information," he defended.

I sighed. Jeff was going to be the death of me. I had always thought that would be Dallas' job, seeing as how he always tried to get me every time he was bored. Jeff ... well, he never had to be bored. This was just a regular thing with him.

"Get signs up and call up the paper," I sighed.

"Same as last year?"

"Same as last year," I concurred. "Why did you even bother checking with me?"

"I dunno. Seemed like the best thing to do at the time," Jeff replied with a shrug. "Pour me a cold one?"

I straightened up, knowing that was probably Jeff's real reason for stopping by in the first place. I needed to start giving Jeff a bit more credit if he was able to pull shit like this.

"So where's the other guy?" Jeff asked, sipping at the mug of beer I set in front of him.

"Fired him."

"Again?"

"For good," I amended.

"Well, good for you, Pard. Gonna hire more help?"

"Why, you looking for a second job?" I asked, watching Jeff smile.

"Me? Hell no. I'm better off with horses than trying to keep this crowd wet and happy."

I nodded, popping open a dusty bottle of bourbon and pouring myself a drink. "You got more sense than me."

"Well, you got sense enough to get rid of that other guy. You should put your woman to work until you find more help."

"Well, here's the thing of it, Jeff – I got rid of her, too."

"You don't say? What's next, your horse? The Slash J?" Jeff asked.

"You'll be the first to know," I returned with a grin.

Jeff chuckled. "You do know I was kiddin', right, Pard?"

I smirked and took a long drink from my glass before ducking under the counter again. Jeff could sweat it out a bit.

So far, I had managed to get through one shelf of booze. I was busy taking everything off the second when my hand closed around an unfamiliar bottle. I turned it in my hands and felt myself grin like no tomorrow, a laugh bubbling up from my chest. In my hands was one of Granddaddy's famous moonshine bottles simply labelled "Medicine." He thought that calling it that was the best way to hide it, and I had found a lot of it hidden all over the place in the months after he'd died. I sniffed at the top, smelling it through the seal, and shook my head. It was no wonder the old jackass was dead after drinking that shit for years.

I dusted off the bottle and straightened up to add it to the shelves behind the bar that showed off the decorative bottles we'd been collecting over the years. They gave the place a bit of class. At least, I thought so.

I stood a moment, looking at that bottle, and felt very ... lonely. I had been feeling that way more and more lately. I didn't have any family I spoke with, I didn't keep friends, and I didn't have a gal no more. All I had was Jeff and this damn bar.

I turned to where I had left the bottle of bourbon and poured myself another glass. I needed to hire someone else, or I was going to be getting drunk a lot with so much booze on hand. That was my thing – if it was there, why not drink it? At least it made me feel better for a while.

Something crashed across the room, and I glanced over in time to see one of the boys storming out of the room, while another guy was laughing after him. A girl moved to pick up the chair that had caused all the noise, and I sighed. Jeff sent me a long look and saluted me with his beer.

Yeah. It was going to be one long night.

* * *

Well, another chapter in.

Any comments are welcome and flames are accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


	3. Chapter 3

Well, here's another chapter. Thanks go out to everyone who reviewed and favorited, especially to Alsonny for her wonderful job of making me make sense. And believe me, it did need the work, so huge thanks.

Disclaimer: The usual.

Chapter 2 – Help Wanted

"No."

"Now, Buck, I haven't even had the chance to open my mouth, and you've got me shut down."

I stared at Two-Bit Mathews for a long moment, knowing exactly what it was he wanted. He wasn't the first of my regulars to stop by since the "Help Wanted" sign had been taped up in the window two nights ago. They figured it was a way to help their tabs a bit. I figured they just wanted a way to drink more. And considering that most of the people who graced the bar with their presence were untrustworthy with money, booze, and keeping the peace, I wasn't about to hire any of them.

Mathews was a bit different. He had stopped drinking a while ago, right after Dal died, in fact. He came in for the odd drink, but nothing like what he used to pack away. He was still Mathews, though, and I didn't need his sense of humour or his social life in my bar.

"I figure everyone is better off if I don't let you talk too much," I replied, polishing a beer mug.

"Oh, now you're hilarious, Buck. But, about that sign..."

"No."

"C'mon, Buck, I know I could bar tend," Mathews stated confidently.

I gave him a long look and shrugged. "Alright. You up for Buck Merrill's patented pop quiz?"

"Quiz?" He frowned at me like I'd lost what little was left in my head.

"You want to bar tend, I have to make sure you know what you're doing," I clarified.

It made for good business. I'd learned that much from my Granddaddy.

"You have two beers and one shot of tequila going out. What do you charge?" I asked, watching as his eyes widened a bit.

"How much is a beer?" he asked, and I smirked a little. He was on the right track.

"Depends on the kind of beer," I replied.

"What kind of beer is it?"

"Miller."

Mathews nodded, he had been through enough Millers to know what the cost was. It roughly cost me around a buck eighty for twelve of them when I picked them up, so it worked out to about fifteen cents a bottle, plus five cents so the bar made a profit.

"How much is the tequila?" Mathews asked.

"Ten cents a shot."

"Remind me never to do shots here," Mathews winced. "So fifty cents, not bad."

"So, what if I said it was for Tim Shepard?"

"Umm ... discount?" he chanced and I shook my head.

Shepard and I had an understanding. He paid a flat fee to me at the beginning of every month. Sometimes he drank more; sometimes he drank less. But when you took into consideration that he probably owned the bar five times over in poker winnings, well, the system worked out best for both of us.

"Mathews, there is a lot that goes into running a place like this. Tabs, pre-paid, minors, fights, poker, pool, cleaning, night hours, bribing the local blues..."

"Well, you make it look a lot easier than it is," he offered, and I shrugged.

It had taken me months to catch onto this place. I didn't have time to teach just anyone all that. I needed pre-trained help. Not that I was going to find it.

"That's why I'm the boss," I finally replied.

"So ... no?" Mathews asked as I set a Miller in front of him.

"Not this time," I confirmed.

"Damn, I thought I would have made a good bartender," he sighed, taking a swig.

"You'll find something, I'm sure," I offered, wondering why anyone with options got into this business.

"You sure you're gonna find someone, Buck?"

"S'cuse me?"

"You're gonna get twenty of me in here looking to get this job, and you're going to turn down all of us. I was just wondering how Pete ever got his foot in the door."

Now, that was an interesting story. Pete had wandered in just months after Granddaddy had died. Joe Kemp and I were making the place run alright, so I was starting to get in on the poker games that Granddaddy used to hold to keep the older crowd around. I was terrible at poker, even then. So it was no wonder I was losing almost every game I sat in on. Pete had been in one, and he'd waited until after closing to settle up with what I owed him. Turns out, he wanted a place to hang his hat, and he was trained enough to figure the place out, so it was a good fit.

If only I knew then what I knew now. Lord, I was an idiot when I was younger.

"What can I say – I was drinking a lot back then," I offered. "And as for finding someone, I am sure it'll be fine, as long as it's not one of my regulars."

"But Buck! I'm not a regular anymore," he groaned.

"Yeah, I know, but it would take too much effort on my part to get you trained up and thick skinned enough for this job."

He looked like he was about to argue when Ralph slammed his hand down on the bar with the same purpose he used when he was ordering a drink.

"Merrill, I'm here for the job. When do I start?"

Mathews started sputtering and laughing. Ralph gave him the dirtiest look he could manage with how soused he was. "And what are you laughing at, youngster?"

"Oh, you're screwed, Buck," Mathews chuckled, and I sighed.

Yeah, he was right. I was well and thoroughly screwed.

And, as it was, it would be another week before someone who was serious turned up. But he was far from the person I wanted for the job.

"So, Buck," Pete drawled, leaning a hip against the bar. "Looks like you're doing just ... fine without me."

The place was looking a little worse for wear. I knew that, even though I was doing my best to manage on my own. And I knew he was here to gloat about how "essential" he was and how dumb I was for letting him go, so I didn't bother replying. He didn't need no opening; he was going to yammer anyways.

"Now, wasn't it easier with me and Carmen hanging around?"

Easier, yes, but terrible for business. Already, in a week, I was seeing an improvement in business.

"Get to it, Pete. I got a bar to run."

"That's why I'm here. You got a bar to run, and you need help. And we both know I am the best you're going to have coming through."

I wanted to tell him about how wonderful he ran the bar, but I didn't think it was worth the effort.

"C'mon, Buck. You need me, I need a job. How about we put last week behind us and go back to the way things were before you got your undies in a twist?"

I just levelled him with a look. Normal was him making a fool of me. Normal was putting more money in his pockets than in the register. Normal didn't work for me anymore.

"Get out."

He blinked, but I kept my face hard, and my glare clear.

"You heard me. I'm never going to let normal happen again, so get out of here."

I meant it when I had said I was done letting people walk all over me. I was done with Pete doing it, mainly.

"You're serious," Pete said after a long moment, a look of dawning awe on his face.

"Damn right."

And with that same miffed look on his face, Pete turned around and left. I knew it wouldn't be the last time I saw him, but I knew it would be the last time he asked me for a job. Still, I was stuck going up shit creek without a paddle, and the only person I had to blame for that was my own damn self. And I had the feeling I was going to pay for it for a long time.

Damn Pete.

With a sigh, I declared to the bar that I was taking fifteen minutes. I took a couple breaks a night, and they were used to it. I always just went out back and sat on the crates for a while. Tonight, I needed a smoke. I only ever did that when I was stressed or upset about something. I went through a whole pack the night Granddaddy died, and another the night we buried Dallas Winston. I just needed one or two tonight.

The match flared to life under my unpractised hands, sulphur drifting up from it. I brought the flame up to the cigarette between my lips, hands cupped around the flame to keep it from blowing out before the end caught. I breathed in, coaxing it to light, and was awarded with smoke a moment later. I flicked out the match, careful to toss it at a puddle of water that was still sitting from the rain storm we'd had last night. I pulled the smoke away from my lips, studying the glowing red end on it, wondering what it would be like to be inside a fire. I knew it would be a terrible experience, but the sudden curiosity took me for a moment.

"Get a grip, Buck," I muttered to the still night, listening to Hank Williams coming muffled from the bar.

And that was exactly what I needed to do – get a grip on things. But as it was with all things, it was easier said than done.

* * *

I dunno, seemed like a short chapter to me, but hey.

Any comments at all are welcome, and flames accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


	4. Chapter 4

Well, I am bored, so here is a post. Thanks go out to Alsonny for this one, too.

Disclaimer: The usual

Chapter 3 – Jeff's Solution

Coffee. I was living off the stuff after three weeks of being on my own. You'd think there would be somebody in Tulsa hard up enough for a job to work here. Maybe I was just being too picky, but was it too much to ask for someone reliable, competent, sober, and trustworthy to work here?

I took another sip from the coffee mug in front of me and winced at how bitter it tasted. I knew it would wake me up faster that way, but damn if it didn't taste like an old shoe. I did need to wake up, though. It was nine in the morning, and already I was half an hour behind with my day. I had business at the barns, a liquor order to meet, and bills to figure out, all before I cleaned up for the night of business ahead. I should have started my day at six, but it was just too hard to get up that early after having been up until three closing up. And seeing as how I expected to be closing up that late again, I needed to get going.

I drained what was left in the bottom of my coffee cup and walked over to where I had left my shoes and coat by the door. I tugged them on and gave my living room a long look before turning to leave.

The Slash J barns had three owners – Haggy, Merrill, and Jones. They all ran the barns like it was a big city corporation. There was even a board for the owners to sit on. I never thought much of that, and neither did Granddaddy, so that was probably why our load was managing the place day-to-day. It made sense that I was managing, anyways. I was the only one in the ownership who wasn't sixty, and the work that went on around the barns wouldn't be good for old bones.

There was always a lot to do. First, there was always a walk around to make sure all the stock was healthy, fed, and watered. Once that was done, there was feed to check, and then I could head up to my office. There, I had to get the feed orders together, look over and sign off on all the bills, book in the Ferrier, manage what was left of the budget, and sometimes book in the vet or a repair man if it was needed. Once all that was done, I had to figure out what was left in the budget for the week.

Right now, that was my workload. It would double as soon as we had a rodeo in town. I would be up to my ears checking in stock, trailers, and idiot cowboys trying to turn the barn into a mess. It wasn't a massive amount of work, but the constant attention it needed made it that way. It was almost as bad as the bar, but the difference was that I never had a problem trying to find people to work at the barns. That was mainly because Jeff was constantly monitoring them to make sure the stock was alright. But we had a couple weeks before we had to worry over that.

I sighed, walking up the stairs to my office. It wasn't much, but I had a desk, and a window, and it was away from the general hustle and bustle down below. There was a flyer on my desk for the next rodeo that would need to be sent out to the papers and put up around town soon. The whole event was going to be hell, what with running the bar on my own. At least Jeff was getting on things instead of leaving them to last minute. He must have known how hard the whole ordeal was for me or something.

Also on my desk was a stack of papers waiting. Most of them were minutes from the last rodeo board meeting, and I ignored them. All it ever equated to was more work for Buck, thus more work for Jeff to figure out.

I slumped down into the chair, jotting down everything from the morning. I had to organize it all later, but that could wait.

"Mornin', Boss."

I glanced up at where Jeff was standing in my doorway. Here, at the barns, I was "Boss". Anywhere else, I was "Pard". It was one of Jeff's quirks.

"What's going on today?" I asked instead of a greeting.

"Well, everything is fed and watered, we've got an order of grain coming in today, and Lady seems to be doing well on those pills she keeps kicking at me for giving her. So not a whole heck of a lot."

Lady was a little Arab with a temper and an eye infection. She liked to kick at Jeff, but truth was she would take a chunk out of anyone else.

"Good. They cost enough."

"Yeah, can't believe we owe so much on one little ornery horse." Jeff shrugged.

I glanced at Jeff, wondering what he meant by 'we'. It sure wasn't his money, or his horse. I shrugged a little and picked through the stack of papers I had been committed to ignoring. There was a note to me right on top that clearly said I had to be at the next meeting on Friday morning. I sighed. I generally slept all day Friday because it seemed like I didn't get another moment of rest until Sunday night. Yeah, I was going to be a bear to be around after this weekend.

The next piece of paper in the pile was a notice for a rodeo down in Sonora. I'd have to tack that up down on the bulletin board later. I never went to these things, but there were a few of our boys who made the trip. It was getting late into the season.

And on the bottom of the pile was a file for a new horse I knew nothing about. Great.

"You alright, Boss? You seem a might edgy today."

"Peachy," I replied, having forgotten Jeff was there.

"You still hunting up a bartender?" Jeff asked, leaning on the doorframe.

"Trying to," I replied.

"You'd think there would be a ton of fellas ready to jump on that."

"I need someone who's not going to rack up a tab, forget to write down figures, and screw with my woman."

"Wow. No wonder you fired Pete," he offered.

I leaned back in my chair, wondering if I could tempt him with that second job.

"You know, I might have a friend who's what you're looking for."

"Don't con me, Jeff. "

"No, I'm not conning you. L'mme make a phone call," Jeff suggested, leaving the room.

I shrugged, turning back to the paperwork waiting for me. As it was, I was going to be leaving in a couple hours, so I had to get on it. And as it turned out, I wasn't done with all of it before I left. I was on my way out when Jeff came trotting over. Literally, he had pushed the Dunn he was riding into a trot to catch up with me. I patted Grover's neck, making sure he was far enough over so I wouldn't get stepped on. The last thing I needed was to go to the hospital for a broken foot.

"So I got a hold of Jo."

I glanced at Jeff and wondered what the hell he was on about. Then I remembered the conversation we had in the office earlier. I sighed a little.

"C'mon, Buck. Just give it a chance. She'll come on by the bar around seven or so for an interview."

I sighed, again, offering him a shrug. No one had been right for the job, and anyone Jeff Kelly came up with was going to be doubtful.

The problem was that I was so sure Jeff was going to let me down that I didn't even pay attention to what he was saying. Naturally, that was going to come around and bite me in the ass.

That night, the bar was hopping, and I was run ragged long before closing. I'd forgotten all about Jeff and his friend. I had enough to deal with in the bar. Mathews had been sitting there all night, giving me these pity looks. He hadn't said a word, but it was driving me plumb loco.

"You want to keep drinking, I suggest you leave me alone," I warned him every time he looked like he was going to say something.

"Hell, Buck, you're no fun since you stopped drinking," he offered, taking a sip from his own beer.

"Believe me, I would rather be drinking." I set another drink down in front of Tom.

"I hear ya," Mathews agreed, and I glared at him. "Well, sort of."

"Just git already," I ordered, not impressed with the conversation.

Mathews offered me a salute with his beer and made his way through the room. I envied him. I was really starting to feel confined by staying on this side of the counter. I just wasn't used to it, not even after three weeks. I guess I'd been lazy with Pete around or something, because I sure would rather be out there playing poker and pouring the odd drink than standing here and working my ass off to keep everyone happy.

The crowd thinned out a bit around midnight, which gave me the chance to breathe. I did just that, taking a couple minutes to clean up the mess I had. I had a whole bunch of grabage that needed to go out back to the trash, and I could sure use a smoke. So I took it out back, probably just standing out there for at least fifteen minutes. It didn't feel nearly long enough when I went back into the bar.

There was a girl sitting on one of the stools when I came back out. I really noticed her because of the way she was studying the bottles lined on the back shelf.

"I take it you don't get much trouble in this place," she offered, and I shrugged.

"The boys know I'd shut down if they started pulling shit," I told her. "They happen to like it here. Can I get you something?"

"Sorry, I don't drink."

"That's not something you have to apologize for."

"Even in a bar?"

"Even in my bar," I replied. "People come here for a good time. Not saying that most of them don't try to drink themselves stupid, but that's not the only option."

She smiled a little, tucking a loose strand of brown hair behind her ear. "That's not an attitude most bosses would want in a place like this."

"Well, clearly, I ain't that good a boss," I said, figuring I'd have more help if I were.

She shrugged a little, and I excused myself to get Hank a drink. When I made my way back, she was still there, leaning so far over the counter, I was sure she was going to topple onto my side of it. She was looking over what I had organized behind the bar, and I think I would have been amused if I weren't so damn tired.

"See anything you like?" I asked.

"Yeah. You have a good set up under that mess."

I bristled, but the irritation was short lasting. I was just that tired.

"It's been a busy night."

"You could use some help around here," she offered.

I wanted to tell her off, or sarcastically offer my opinion on things, but I let it go. What was the point?

"What's your point?" I finally asked.

"My point is that I'll take the job," she replied.

"Job?" I blinked, honestly confused.

"The bar tending job," she clarified.

"Listen, lady –"

"Jo."

"Jo," I corrected. "It's not that I don't appreciate your interest, but you have me confused."

"I thought Jeff told you I was coming by to see about the job."

I frowned, remembering Jeff saying something about it, but clearly I needed to start paying more attention.

"Jeff wasn't clear about it, but he mentioned you."

"Well, I'll tell you a bit about myself, then. I'm Jo Collins. Jeff is my cousin. He gave me a call and told me you were real hard up for good help. I used to bar tend for my daddy back in the day, so I know what I'm doing. I've been tending in Texas for a while, but I'm looking to come back home."

I just listened, not having anything to offer. She was going on about her experience and I wondered how a girl managed in this business.

"I like this place, but I have conditions. I want to pick my own hours."

"That's all well and good, but I'm not about to hire you unless I know you can handle the job," I told her, ready to send her off so I could get back to work.

She smiled a little. "Now, this is why you can't find any help."

I scowled. "Yeah, well, that's my business."

"I didn't say it was a bad thing," she offered. "You have a good point. So why don't you come sit on this side of the bar and let me show you that I do know what I'm doing? Worst that'll happen is that you get a break, and I'll have wasted my time."

I studied her for a long moment. She looked like she meant business. I finally offered a nod and rounded the counter. My tired bones sunk into the padded stool, and I watched as a woman made herself at home behind the counter. I had to hand it to her; she did know what she was doing. She managed drinks and got on with the customers like she'd been there for years.

It went against everything Granddaddy always said about having women working in the bar. But when a woman was your best choice – heck, your only choice – you couldn't afford to be picky.

I fingered the drink in front of me and held it up a little in a salute to my dead granddaddy.

"Well, here's to hitting rock bottom."

* * *

Yeah, poor Buck. He really needs to listen better. But don't worry, I have a plan.

Any comments are all are welcome and flames are accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


	5. Chapter 5

Well, it was one interesting summer, haha. Busy, busy, and busy. But now that rodeo season us up, and school is back in session, I think this will be much more regular posting-wise. Also, Buck was nominated for Best Minor Character over at GG&SC awards, so hopefully that goes well! Anyways, no more babbling, and here we go.

Disclaimer: The usual.

Chapter 4 – Changes

The next morning, I woke up late, cussin' myself before I even had my eyes open. I had to stop doing that. There was a reason why god invented alarm clocks, and I apparently needed to invest in one, seeing as how this was the third time in one week. I'd never needed one before, but I had never been this dog-tired in my whole long life.

Sitting up, I rubbed at the stubble on my face, knowing I didn't have time to do anything about it. I had to be at the barns in ... I glanced over at the clock on the wall and groaned. I was already ten minutes late.

"Get it together, Merrill," I told myself, getting up and moving towards the closet.

I didn't have a single clean looking pair of pants, or a shirt that didn't smell ripe. Clearly, I had to do laundry at some point. Luckily, most no one was going to complain about how I smelled at the stables. The bar was a different story, but I'd worry about it later.

But no matter how I smelled, it would be alright. Jo was starting, and I would finally get some reliable help around here. On that note, I was going to have to thank Jeff for sending her over, even if I had a couple select words about this 'cousin' business. He should have just said so. Then I wouldn't have looked like such a darn fool.

It took me ten whole minutes to get my act together and head down stairs with a mug of coffee in hand. I liked it with a shot of bourbon, but I was trying to cut back on the morning drinking. It was only nine, after all. I had the whole day to let slosh on me before I got myself sloshed.

Now, you'd think with how bad my morning was going that I could catch a break. But it didn't seem like that was going to happen today. Someone was banging around in the main bar room, which was surprising. Normally everyone who was around here at this time of the morning was still asleep upstairs. They usually emerged in the afternoon, leaving not long after. That didn't bother me none. Only a few of them knew how to get into the locked bar room, and half of them were dead. But for the most part, they respected my space.

I sighed, deciding I was going to have to check up on whoever was in there before I could get off on my day. I strolled on in and stopped short. Not only was someone puttering around in the back, but there was a little person sitting in the middle of the floor. The blond haired little guy was shoving a truck around on the floor, paying me no mind. Now, I knew a lot of under-aged drinking went on in my place, but this was ridiculous.

The little blond head finally tilted up, blue eyes meeting mine. The kid just blinked, and I imagine my own blink was a might more confused than his.

"Hi," I offered.

"Hi."

Well, that was a start.

"Uh...What'd ya got there?" I asked, gesturing at his truck with my free hand.

"Duck!" he said, and I supposed that meant truck.

"Say, that is a good looking truck," I offered, crouching down so I was on his level.

"Go Vroom!" he declared, pushing it around on the floor quickly.

A little throb started behind my eyes at the noise, and I winced just a bit. Oh, this was sure shaping up to be one hell of a day.

"That's nice. Say, where is your momma?"

The boy looked at me for a moment before yelping "Ma" at the top of his lungs and going back to his truck. I winced again.

A moment later, Jo popped her head out of the back room. Her hair was thrown up in a messy knot, and she looked filthy, like she had been rolling in a giant dust bowl. I couldn't imagine where she found all that in my place. I may have been behind on the cleaning, but I wasn't that far gone.

She frowned when she saw me kneeling down by her son, and I took that as my cue to stand. Daddy didn't raise no fool, and I knew better than to get between a momma bear and her cub.

"Mornin'," I offered.

"Good morning," she replied. "Just getting up?"

"Yeah. I'm off to a late start."

"Well, I haven't been here all that long myself."

I frowned. "And just what are you doing here?"

It was a valid question. She wasn't needed until the evening, after all.

"Cleaning," she replied like it was obvious.

"I didn't tell you to clean."

"No, but I'm not going to work in some filthy excuse for a bar, so I came in to do something about it."

"This bar's no excuse for anything," I defended, causing her to tilt her head at me a little.

It was a fair statement; if there was one thing I was sure of, this sure as hell was a bar. Not that I ever put that down on any legal paperwork, seeing as how that was frowned upon when you didn't have licences for all the booze and staff. In fact, I often just jotted down "boarding house". But that wasn't something I was going to bring up right then, not when she was cleaning my place and willing to work.

"But you don't disagree that this place is filthy?"she asked, and I shrugged.

"Filthy is a strong word."

"And just what word would you use?" she asked, hands on her hips.

"...Dusty."

She raised an eyebrow as I shifted on my feet a bit.

"Alright, let's go with that. Now, what do you do on a normal day?"

"Everything, except the dustin'," I replied with a shrug. "Clearly."

"What I meant was, am I going to be in your way?"

"Not for a while. I have to head on down to the barns," I told her, taking another sip of my coffee, and mentally reminding myself that I was still running a might late on that one.

She nodded. "Well, that'll give me time to get things in order."

I glanced down at the boy again, watching as he drove his truck around my boot. Jo looked at him, too; her gaze softened.

"That's my son, Cody," Jo offered before I could ask. "Don't ask me where his daddy is, because I don't know or care."

"He's young," I offered. "Are you going to need special hours to take care of him?"

"Just make sure I never start before eight pm, and if you have a room or something upstairs where I can lay him down some nights, I'd appreciate it."

"You want the kid to sleep here while you work?" I asked, confused.

"Only on the nights Jeff can't watch him," she clarified, and I bit my tongue.

I needed her, and she wasn't being unreasonable. It just meant I would have to let her use my apartment, because the rest of the bar sure as hell weren't no place for a kid. My rooms weren't no space for a kid, either, but they were better. There was still a lot that little fingers could get into, but I could straighten that up. The thing was, that was my space, and it would be odd to share it with anyone —even on the odd night. I hadn't had anyone but Carmen in there since Granddaddy died. Well, and I suppose Pete, seeing as how they were going at it in our bed when I caught them. Damn Pete.

I frowned, putting that out of mind. I didn't need to think about that. Instead, I watched Jo kneel down by her kid and push the truck towards one of the tables. The little boy laughed and chased after it. Thankfully, he was shorter than the table top. He'd sure grow fast, though. And with it just being her alone, she was going to have to work a lot to support him. I was going to have to rethink my budget so she wouldn't have to work so much. That meant taking in tabs. Oh, the fights I was going to have on my head.

I should have just hired Pete back when I had the chance.

"I should get going," I offered. "I'll bring back some sandwiches around lunch time."

Jo nodded, watching her son fondly. "He's on a peanut butter and jelly kick. Won't eat anything else, but I'm pretty easy to please."

I nodded and turned to go. Something told me that I was going to regret hiring Jo at some point, but for now, I was up a certain proverbial creek without a paddle.

As it was, I was kicking myself for hiring Jo by that night. It wasn't that she couldn't do the job, because she could, and better than I could to boot. The problem was that there was a woman working my bar. This was something that had never happened before. Granddaddy was against it, saying something about the bar business being for men. I think he just couldn't stand to be around when some idiot disrespected a lady. That was sure to happen a lot in a bar, because drinking sure didn't promote any manners. And he was right. The boys were going to eat her alive.

The best I could do was try my best to intercept the trouble makers. That was easier said than done. The boys all seemed to be trouble makers these days, and all the drinking never helped along things. But I was doing my damndest, because I sure as hell didn't need a crying girl on my hands. Not that I could see Jo being the kind to cry on me, but I still was wary of it, regardless. No one ever accused Buck Merrill of being caught off his toes, if he could help it.

I had to admit that Jo did do good work. Where I had never thought that the bar was dirty before, I sure did after her clean job. There was a shine to the place I'd never seen. It was so clean, you could eat off a couple of the surfaces. I wouldn't have taken a bet last week to ever try that. Granddaddy would have been pleased, though. I knew him well enough to say that he would have even let up on the fact that Jo was a girl, if she was going to manage to get the bar looking the way it did. It hadn't even looked this good when he was alive. That really would have shown him.

I glanced over at Jo from where I was sitting at the end of the bar. I could hardly believe she was a mother and a cleaner with how she dressed when she was working the bar. Her hair was pulled back, showing off her neckline in her low-topped shirt. Her jeans were dark, her boots were brown, and her wrist had a leather bracelet around it that wasn't all that common. She was going to get a lot of attention here. The boys might even drop a few tips in appreciation.

Now all I had to do was get them paying their tabs and life would be good.

The first shift with a new employee was always the hardest. It seemed like both she and I were feeling each other out, and the boys were all trying to impress her while still staying on my good side, and you can bet that didn't help the atmosphere. Lord, they acted like idiots. I wouldn't have been surprised if their only goal in life was to impress the pretty lady with lots of booze at her disposal.

And once they had a drink from her, the ribbing started on me. And the boys were like a dog on a bone. Once they started, there was no getting them to stop while there was any meat still on that bone. Most of the night I managed to just ignore it, working in tandem with Jo, and not feeling relaxed at all with how much I had to watch. Hiring help was supposed to make my life easier, but it looked like it would be a couple days, if not a week, before Jo became part of the place and not something to gawk at.

But at the end of the night, when all was said and done, and it was just the pair of us cleaning up in record time, I finally did let myself relax.

Jo hummed Hank Williams as she finished wiping down the counter, tossing the rag over towards the wash bin. It landed on target and Jo looked pleased. I had all the bills and tabs folded in the usual envelope, ready to stash it away in the apartment until tomorrow. All that I needed to do was lock up, and say something. I was bad at the talking bit. Always had been, probably always would be. I think that came from not growing up with a Ma. She'd taken ill when Trip was still in diapers, dying before he'd even started talking. That left the three of us with Daddy, so talking was never a priority, especially to girls...women.

"You did a good job tonight," I offered and Jo smiled a little.

"I always loved working in places like this," she replied. "Makes it easy enough to do a good job."

"Well, that's good. Good...job," I told her again.

"Thanks, Buck. You have a good night."

"Yeah, you too..." I nodded, watching as she shook her head a bit and headed towards the doors.

Yeah, this was going to take some getting used to. But as it was, I was going to bed for the first time in three weeks before three am, so I was willing to get used to it.

I had no choice.

* * *

Well, it was a bit short, but I like it.

Any comments at all are welcome, and flames accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


	6. Chapter 6

Well, here's an update on this. I apologise for any mistakes. I have the mother of all evil colds, so bear with me.

Disclaimer: The usual.

Chapter 5 – Assumptions

After two weeks of working with Jo, I was used to her. She did her job, and she was easy enough to get along with. That kid of hers, though, he was a strange little bright spot to the place. Bars weren't supposed to have little people running around, filling the space with laughter and car noises, but I figured as long as there weren't any customers hanging around, then it wouldn't be a problem.

I had just about convinced myself that life was returned to some form of normalcy when Jo threw another wrench into my carefully run machine. It happened on a typical Monday afternoon while I was busy playing cards with the kid. Cody was three years old and he wasn't great at cards, but it sure beat hanging around the barn all afternoon.

With the rodeo next week, Jeff was in his element. Every time I walked in, he had a hundred and two new things for me to tell him to do. This was far from his first rodeo, but he wasn't much for remembering everything that had to be done, and when to do it. I think he just liked having me involved, as strange as that seemed. I figured since I was the boss, I should be involved, but it would have been nice if I could make my own choices once in a while.

For now, I was busy enough trying to remember if the kid had any twos or not.

"Do you have any twos?" I asked, glancing at the serious blond across from me.

"Go Fish!" he crowed and I sighed.

"Do you know what a two even looks like?" I sighed, picking up another card.

"Yes, this many," he told me, holding up two fingers easily.

"Don't mean you can read the damn number," I muttered.

"Got threes?" he asked and I sighed, handing him one.

"Do you have any sevens?" I asked.

"Fish!"

I grumbled, picking up yet another card. I needed to teach the kid poker so that I might actually win for once. The kid had absolutely no poker face. Like right now, he was grinning like mad.

"I win!" he declared.

I glanced up and watched as he laid down all his cards. He had two of each card.

"You had two twos," I pointed out.

"I win! Two of all dees."

"I'm going to have to teach you how to play this game...again," I sighed.

"I told you that he was too young for cards," Jo reminded, coming into the room with a mop and bucket.

"You say a lot of things. And with a little more training, I could turn this kid into a pint sized shark."

"Buck!" Cody pulled at my cards and I let him have them. He sloppily pushed them all into a pile and started mixing them up. Shuffling or something.

Jo smiled fondly at him, then glanced at the clock. I noticed that she had been watching it all afternoon.

"Is the clock broken, or are you that excited for opening?" I asked, causing her to sigh.

"No. I'm just expecting someone at three," she explained.

I didn't pry. It was two thirty now, so whoever she was expecting would be here before long. I'd also learned that if you kept quiet, people usually talked anyways. People didn't like silences, city folk especially. Jo was no different. After a few minutes she sighed.

"I invited a friend of mine down here. Kim is a bar tender, a damn good one, too."

"I see," I replied, accepting the six cards messily slipped across the table to me.

"And we can use the help."

"I agree," I replied, frowning at my cards.

"So, you don't mind that I pretty much hired someone without telling you?" she asked and I shrugged.

I needed the help, and looking for employees on my own had been less than productive. Jeff had found Jo, and Jo had found someone else. All in all, it meant less work for me. Besides, it would be a gimmick – I'd be the only place in town with a couple of girls running it. And with how often my world seemed to be changing these days, there was no point in getting upset about it, even if I hated change with a passion.

"You know your stuff," I offered. "But if it doesn't work out, it's on your head."

"Thanks, Buck," she replied. "I appreciate this."

I shrugged. I should have been the one thanking her, but I wasn't going to. I'd wait and see how things turned out before I bothered jumping that far ahead.

I glanced down at my cards, seeing another whole hand of nothing. Here we went again.

"Any fives?"

"Fish!"

Yeah, that sounded about right.

Half an hour later I heard the main doors open and the sound of boots on the wood. I frowned a bit. I'd lived here long enough to recognize the way a man sounded when he walked on my floors. The footsteps were definitely that of a tall guy. I glanced up towards the entry and wasn't surprised in the slightest to see a tall guy standing there with a duffle over his shoulder. But Cody sure wasn't expecting it.

"Kim!" he shouted, toppling from his chair onto the floor.

I winced, hoping he didn't bruise anything. Either way, it didn't seem to bother him as he pulled himself up and ran across the room as fast as his little legs would take him. The tall man dropped his duffle and hauled the little boy up into his arms.

"Hey, buddy."

"I didn't know that you coming!" Cody crowed excitedly.

"Well, I didn't know myself, until your ma called me up."

Now see, this is where I always end up getting myself in trouble. I had made the assumption that Kim would be a girl. Kim was definitely not a girl. He had height on me, dark brown hair, eyes to match, and stood like he knew what he was doing with his muscles. The first thought that came to me was that he would make a pretty decent bouncer somewhere. But here he was holding that kid like he was something delicate. I guess there was something to be said about him for that, too.

Kim noticed me from where I was still sitting at the table, and made his way closer. He held out his hand to me, Cody still on his hip.

"You must be Buck. I'm Kim."

I figured as much. What surprised me was that Kim knew my name. I shook his offered hand because Daddy didn't raise no fool son, and tested his tight grip.

"Pleasure," I replied. "I hear tell that you can 'tend, and you're looking for a job."

"That's right." Kim nodded. "Got one for me?"

I nodded back. "Always use more help."

Kim nodded again.

Now, this was how a conversation between men went. He knew he had the job, I knew he would do it, that was all that needed to be established. I could get to know him after I decided if I wanted him to stick around or not.

"You work with Ma?" Cody asked with a big smile.

"Yep. Where is she, anyway?"

"Ma!" Cody yelped and I winced. I was never going to get used to that.

A minute later, Jo poked her head out of the back room. Now, see, I was onto her. She had been waiting on Kim all day, but she had left me to meet him on my own so that I could form my own opinion of him. Now that we'd met, she'd step in. Women...

She glanced at me, then to Kim. A warm look took her features. Yeah, now wasn't that interesting...

"I got business with Jeff," I stated, standing up from my chair. "You can start whenever you're of a mind to. Jo will show you the ropes."

"Thanks." Kim nodded again.

"Bye, Buck!" Cody waved and I offered him one of my own on the way out the door.

I didn't really have any business with Jeff – in fact, I was putting it off – but I wanted to be in between those two even less. I'd seen that look, and I didn't want anything to do with it. It figured that life would only make sense if the only woman in the place was sleeping with my bartender. It had just better turn out between them or I was going to shoot myself just so I didn't have to deal with the grief.

Damn Pete.

As it was, the Slash J looked like it did need me there when I pulled up a few minutes later. There were piles of notes, papers, and forms on my desk in no specific order. Jeff was usually good at making sure that related things hit related piles, but today he was really tossing off his responsibilities. The first thing I did when I saw the mess was curse. The second was turn back out of the office so I could go and get some answers out of Jeff.

Jeff was proving difficult to find, until I saw mostly all the hands standing around one of the corner stalls on the far side of the building. I made my way over, not breaking the quiet they had.

I knew a vigil when I saw one.

Jeff was sitting in the stall, his back against the wall, one of the oldest horses with his head across Jeff's lap. The dapple was at least in his late twenties, and I could tell from here that he wasn't going to make it another year. From the way his ribs were showing and he was struggling to pull in a breath, I was sure he'd be dead within a few hours. I frowned. I told Jeff to call the vet last week when the horse stumbled badly and the owners had decided it was time to put him down. Jeff was usually prompt about it, knowing just like I did that it wasn't fair to let the animal suffer like this. Obviously he hadn't done it, and the results weren't pretty.

"Won't be long now, boss," the hand on my left offered.

"Anyone call Doc Stewart?" I asked.

"Yeah, but he's way out in the middle of nowhere delivering a testy calf."

I nodded, watching Jeff gently stroke the neck of the old beast. The horse was still wheezing and struggling to drag in air and I hated watching this.

"Go grab me a piece," I directed, handing Dave my office keys.

Without knowing when the doc would make it here, there was only one thing that could be done, and I had to be the one to do it – I was the boss. I knew I couldn't hand it off, even if I really wanted to.

Dave nodded and trotted off to go do what I asked. When he got back, it was to set an old revolver in my hands. This one had been around the Slash J longer than I had, but it still worked. I weighed it in my hands for a long moment, before checking that it was loaded, and stepping into the stall.

Jeff looked up at me with big sorrowful eyes. His fingers tightened in the mane and he shook his head slowly.

"You know I have to, Jeff. This ain't right."

Jeff looked back down, stroking the horse's ears gently.

"C'mon, he's suffering."

Jeff drew in a stuttered breath. I had never seen him this bad with a horse before. I knew they were all like children to him, and he loved them all like they were his own, but when it came to putting them down, he usually handled it by having a quiet drink in the office while the vet took care of it. There must have been something behind this one.

He finally moved, gently sliding out from under the horse's neck. He left the stall completely and I gave him some time to get as far away as possible. After a few minutes, I squared my feet, and drew the gun so it was aiming right at the head. The tired eye watched me, and I didn't hesitate to cock the hammer back and squeeze the trigger. The sound was deafening in the small space, leaving a ringing in my ears for a minute. When it cleared, the wheezed, laboured breathing was gone, and I lowered the gun back down.

"Make sure he gets taken care of," I directed, stepping out of the space.

"Sure, Boss."

It was on the walk back to the office when it hit me and I could have cursed myself. No wonder Jeff was having such a time of it – the horse's name was Dally.

* * *

Yes, a little depressing, but it fits the lovely drum in my head.

Any comments at all are welcome, and flames accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


	7. Chapter 7

Now, I don't know how the rest of you spend a Friday night, but mine was getting this all edited up! I hope everyone enjoys a lighter chapter after the last one.

Disclaimer: The usual.

Chapter 6 - The Slash J Rodeo - Day 1

Every year in June, then again in September, the Slash J hosted the rodeo. The first was a start of the season amateur event where anyone who could cover the fees was welcome. The second event was the Regional Finals where the prizes weren't that great, but the wins counted for more as the cowboys and girls got down to the wire on qualifying for Nationals. It brought in plenty of people from miles around, which wasn't only good for the barn, but the whole city, so the rodeos got a lot of leeway. In response, the whole city gussied itself up. The people were friendlier, and the social classes ignored each other for the sake of having a good time. My bar sure saw a lot of those good tempered people and their money, so I was happy enough with things.

It also had the effect of making me and my staff busier than rabbits in the springtime. Jo and Kim handled the bar well, which was a good thing. I could depend on them, which would leave me open to mingle with the out of town folks. That was important when it came to getting folks back this way again, whether it was for the rodeo or just because they remembered it was a good place for a drink.

Then the Slash J boys were essential to making the whole rodeo part of it come off without a hitch. Jeff and the boys knew their stuff, making sure that nothing was left to chance. It had taken Jeff a day or two to get over the dapple, but when he was back to himself, he was working just as hard as I was. Jeff was real good at getting the people and their animals organized, and keeping them that way. Where he wasn't long on brains, Jeff never seemed to forget where someone was supposed to be or the name of each person there. I didn't know how he kept it all straight, but I was glad for it. With all the final administrative ends that I had to deal with, it was a good thing to have people watching your back like that.

By the time the rodeo was here, we somehow managed to pull everything together, just like we did every year. And just like it always did, opening day found people swarming the property, following the big parade ride through town. It was tradition that every year all our stock made the trip through town to get people excited for the rodeo. Each horse was ridden by an excited owner, waving at the crowd. You'd think they'd never bothered to be on the back of a horse before with how they were acting. The rodeo clowns were walking, making jokes, throwing candy, and there were even a couple fiddlers in the back of a pickup. All in all, we were a pretty good looking little parade.

I glanced at where the other two owners and their wives were waving from the convertible they were driving in. I wanted to roll my eyes. It was tradition that the owners lead the little parade through town. Granddaddy and I had always ridden on horseback for it, not understanding how a white Cadillac was part of the rodeo. I always appreciated the opportunity to ride because it wasn't often these days that I got the chance. My horse was pretty unique. Sir was the tallest horse in the barn. Any bigger and he would be classified a draft horse. He was a tall bay with a black mane and socks. He wasn't so fast, and he wasn't any good for the rodeo, but I liked him just fine. He could keep on going for hours, never once showing signs that he was tired. And when you just needed to move, that was one hell of an asset. By the end of the little parade across town, he had barely even warmed up.

I was hot and sweating, though. It was only June, but it was sure as hell too hot already. July and August were going to be murder if this kept up. I watched all the folks crowd the stands, hoping they were all grateful for the overhang. Putting that sun shade up had nearly killed me when I was 15; but I still felt a bit of pride every time I saw it giving people a cool place to sit.

I let my eyes continue onto the box where the announcer always sat, perched to tell everyone about the events. The Mayor was up there with him, along with a couple town council members. If the big wigs were up there, then the show was about to get on the road. There was one thing I knew about bigwigs – they hated to wait. Sure, they got their kicks from making the rest of us wait, but when it came to their own boredom, they'd push it.

Finally the stands were full and the microphone let out a loud twinge as some moron tapped it. Sir shifted, his ears plastered back at the noise. I scratched his neck in sympathy. If my ears could do that, I'd be joining him.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," a voice rang out over the loud speaker. "I want to welcome you all to the twenty-third annual Slash J Amateur Rodeo."

The crowd cheered and I glanced up at where the Mayor was preening. He was a stout man, one of those people who thought by getting wider no one would notice the receding hairline and bald spot. Daddy didn't raise no rude son, so I wasn't about to tell him.

"I want to thank all the people of Tulsa for supporting the rodeo, and welcome all the visiting competitors. Best of luck to you all!"

The crowd cheered and that was my cue to tip my hat to the crowd so I could get out of the lime light. I did just that, nudging Sir back towards the gate we'd come through. The other owners sat there, waving like there was nothing else they wanted to do with their day. They probably didn't have anything else to do, but seeing as how I was the manager, I did have things to get done. But mostly, I just hated the attention. Sir seemed to agree with me, picking up his face when he saw the open gate.

The big horse weaved between people and other horses with ease. We finally made it to the open area where the corrals had been set up and the trailers had been grouped. Great pains had been taken to make sure that everything was as well set up as possible. Jeff and the boys had done a great job there.

I hooked a foot over the pommel and reached into my shirt pocket for a smoke. I only smoked when I was stressed, and the whole morning had been stressful, but there had been no chance to light up. Taking a long drag, I let Sir wander wherever he wanted. He was only about four years old, so he liked to move a lot and I didn't mind wandering around.

Naturally, he found his way back to the barn. The boys were busy getting the parade horses put up, still walking in a few of them. Sir stopped shy of the entrance and nickered at one of the passing mares.

"Good luck, Pard," I said, scratching at his neck again.

He had about as much a chance as getting that pretty little paint as I did of landing the barrel racing winner this year.

"Hey, Buck!"

I glanced over at Sodapop Curtis when he called my name. I nodded a greeting, watching as he was drawn to Sir. Curtis used to ride in this rodeo, until he hurt his knee. He wasn't by the barns much after that, but I did recall he had a definite thing for horses. That was the thing about growing up – unless you worked with horses or had a lot of money there weren't a lot of chances to be around them. Curtis had neither going for him.

"I didn't know you smoked," he commented and I shrugged.

"I usually don't," I replied. "Here for the rodeo?"

"Yeah. Pony and me dragged Darry down here. I'm sure we'll have a good time."

I nodded, rocking my dentures a little. Carmen had talked me into them a while back, saying that she wasn't going to be seen with a man missing his front teeth. I was used to them, but from time to time I had to wiggle them back into place. That was the ultimate reason to stay sober – I didn't need any more of my teeth knocked out because I was drunk and fighting.

"So why aren't you all cozy with them up in the stands?" I asked, earning a shrug.

"And miss all the horses?"

I frowned a bit. He would have seen plenty of horses in the events. Heck, it was a weekend rodeo, so it moved pretty quick and there'd be lots of horses running. But I guess I could see where he was coming from. Wasn't the same as touching one.

"Hey, Boss?" one of the hands called, jogging out of the barn. "Phone call."

"Jeff'll take it," I waved him off.

"Jeff said to holler for you."

I sighed a little, closing my lips around the cigarette as I kicked my feet out of the stirrups and hopped down. Sir made an annoyed noise and I patted his neck.

"No rest for the boss," I told him, glancing over at Curtis.

Now, I'd had doozie ideas in the past, and this was probably another one, but it was rodeo time, and I was feeling a bit generous.

"You want to do me a favour?" I asked, holding the reins out to Curtis. "Just keep him moving for a bit, will ya?"

The kid looked at me like I had a screw loose for a minute, before beaming brightly. I moved so I could give him a boost up, and watched as he settled in on Sir's back like he spent every day on the back of an animal. Sir shifted a bit, giving me a look. I patted his nose good naturedly. I had to admit that I was lighter these days, and Curtis looked like he had a couple pounds on me, but when you looked at a horse as big as Sir, anything smaller than a tank on his back was just an afterthought.

"You behave."

"Don't worry, Buck. I can manage," Curtis assured me.

"I wasn't talking to you."

Curtis chuckled and I just patted Sir's neck before turning to the barn. When I got to my office, Jeff had the place in a mess. The phone was tucked between his ear and shoulder as he messed around in my papers. He saw me and looked half way annoyed and half way pleased, if that were possible.

"Hold on a sec," he directed into the phone, covering the receiver with his hand. "Fire Marshall's on the line, and boy does he have some nerve."

"Never had a problem with him before," I replied, thinking this was a might odd.

"Well, we do now. You talk to the jerk for a while."

Strong words, especially from Jeff Kelly. I sighed and held my hand out for the phone. Jeff handed it over like the damn thing was a hot potato.

"Hello?"

"_Now who am I talking to?"_

"This is Buck Merrill. I'm the manager," I spoke into the phone. "Now, what's all the trouble?"

"_Tom Phillips, Fire Marshall."_

"What do you need, Mr. Phillips?"

I had a horse I could be riding. Jeff had animals he could be worrying about. Neither of us had time for this.

"_Are you planning on setting off fireworks Sunday night?"_

"Yeah." It was tradition. It ended the rodeo. "It's never been a problem before."

"_And it doesn't have to be. I hear Pete quit."_

"Fired, actually," I told him, wondering what that had to do with anything.

"_That's too bad. Every year he pays me a fee and I overlook your little show."_

I frowned deeply then. "We filed a permit with your office weeks ago."

"That's what I told him, Boss, but finding the paperwork..." Jeff shrugged a bit.

"_And what would happen if I misplaced that permit?"_

"So you want me to pay you for another permit?" I asked, not believing this.

"_No, just a fee. Think of it as...__permit insurance."_

"Now, if that ain't the lowest thing I've ever heard," I growled. "Go ahead and lose it. But I'll still be having my show."

"_Try it without a permit and you'll be smacked with a fine so fast –"_

"Why the hell am I arguing with you? I have my own copy of the damn thing."

...Somewhere in all this mess. Damn Pete...err, Jeff. Old habits were hard to break.

I snapped my fingers at Jeff, pointing at the filing cabinet in the corner. He went to go and sort through it and I straightened some of the papers on my desk with my free hand, hoping I would come across the yellow carbon copy of the damn thing.

"Got it!" Jeff declared, waving the damn thing at me in case I hadn't noticed.

"Seems I got my copy, Marshall."

"_This ain't over Merrill."_

"It better be. You start raising hell about this and you really will wish that you'd had a lick of sense and dropped it now."

I handed the phone back to Jeff, feeling tired and annoyed.

"Yeah! What he said!" Jeff hollered into the phone before he hung it up. "Damn Granger."

Yes, Damn Pete indeed.

I took the yellow paper from him, hoping to put it somewhere I wouldn't lose it. That's when I sighed. Jeff had found the right color, but this sure as hell wasn't our permit copy.

"Jeff, this is one of our forms."

"No...really?" Jeff asked, looking confused and a bit disappointed as he finally saw the Slash J brand printed on it.

"Yeah, really. We'll have to find the right copy pretty damn quick."

"Now, sayin' we don't find it, what're we going to do about the Marshall, Boss?"

"What is there to do? We carry on, and either he raises a stink about this or he doesn't. Either way, I think he's forgetting how much the mayor seems to like our little show. Either way, keep an eye out for him, will ya?"

"You can count on me, Boss."

I nodded, rubbing at my right temple. Fire Marshalls, Pete, stock, cowboys, owners, big wigs...god, it was only the June Amateur. We were going to be in big trouble when August came if we couldn't manage a small time thing like this.

"You look like you could use a drink, Boss," Jeff commented, sinking into the roll chair behind the desk.

"More like a vacation."

"Mexico is nice," he offered.

"Yeah, it's not bad. Might pick somewhere a might further."

Like Alaska. I just had to find my damn horse and take off before anyone noticed.

"Two more days, Boss."

I nodded. Just two more days. And heaven help anyone who tried to screw them up.

* * *

Well, another chapter down!

Any comments are welcome and flames accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


	8. Chapter 8

Yeah, I suck at regular posting, but I am trying to be better about it! Promise! Thanks to everyone who reviewed and favorited this story! I'm really happy everyone is getting into my version of Buck.

Disclaimer: The usual

Chapter 7 The Slash J Rodeo – Day 2

"Sure is a nice day, huh?"

I groaned a little, my head thumping in time with my heart, stabbing sharply whenever Sir decided to shift his weight wrong. Syl nattering on from where she was riding behind me, chin dug into my shoulder so she could talk right into my ear, wasn't helping my headache any. The arm she had hooked around my waist wasn't doing anything for the sick feeling in my gut, either.

"Sun is shining. Birds are singing. And everyone is making noise – just for you," Syl continued, her voice pitched high and sugary sweet so that she could make a bigger impact.

"Syl," I groaned. "My head is killing me."

"Good. You deserve that hangover, Buck Merrill."

I sighed. Yeah, she had a point there. I made far too merry last night. It was part of the rodeo culture for the head honchos to show their guests a good time. I got pretty carried away going about it, though. I hadn't felt real drunk at the time, just light and free as I made social with everyone who had showed up. Come the morning, my stomach woke me up to go and pray to the porcelain god, and my head hadn't stopped torturing me since. Someone up there wanted me to die a slow, painful death.

Syl, God love her, was out to make sure that the job got done.

"This is why I never had sisters," I told her, kneeing Sir around one of the boxes some idiot had left in the middle of the way.

"I'm the one who's going to nag you to death. And what fun would that be if you had sisters that beat me to it?"

I rolled my eyes, wincing as my head twinged at the motion. She was probably right. Her nagging me to full effect was some god's idea of punishment for drinking, gambling, cussing, fighting, and just being an all around grump. And Syl was his angel on my shoulder, making me crazy. I just had to keep in mind that the hangover would be gone tomorrow. Then I could go back to my heathen existence.

"So...That Jo is cute," Syl offered after a while.

"Damn, Syl. You need a new hobby."

Anytime a woman came into my life, no matter how casual, Syl seemed to think that she needed to set me up. I suppose I was her pet project or something. She sure seemed to get a lot of pleasure out of trying, anyway. She sure as hell wasn't bored, so fun had to be her excuse. I just hoped if I did get a new girl, it went better than Syl's dating experiences.

Right after Dal died, she had tried on a lot of different guys, looking to see which one would be a good fit. They were like damn shoes or something. Finally, she had decided that she was going to run with Tim Shepard. I frowned at that one more than enough. He didn't treat anything with respect, especially when he thought he owned it. I was sure that there was a gang leader trait because I had seen it a few times with the head honchos in Tulsa. I think that Syl was drawn to that, but I wished she would look at someone else, like that Curly, if it had to be someone in a gang. He was starting to figure out his life, looked enough like Tim, and seemed to treat the girls better when he brought them around my joint.

On that note, I sure as hell was going to knock out Tim's teeth the next time I saw Syl with a mark on her. I didn't care what trouble that would stir up for me. There was no good reason to ever hit a girl. I know, sometimes Syl was asking for someone to tan her hide, but that wasn't an invitation to rough her up. Granddaddy always said that you should treat every girl like she was your sister. He always said that if you did that, you would never have a problem with them. He wasn't all the way right, but I agreed with the sentiment.

"C'mon, Buck. Jo is cute, and she can obviously put up with you and your bar. Plus, she doesn't have a thing for Pete."

I had to hand it to her there – Jo in no way had a thing for Pete. Damn Pete.

"No, but she has a thing for Kim," I told her.

I'd been watching the pair of them, and it was pretty obvious. I don't think they ever thought about hiding it – they just didn't bring it up. I didn't mind. It just meant that I got stuck on kid sitting duty more often since I'd hired Kim on.

Sylvia laughed, assaulting my head with the noise. "Oh, now how the hell did I miss that?"

"You were too busy taking inventory on which guys were looking at _you_ all night, not which ones Jo was looking at."

Tim was busy in the back room playing poker all night with a bunch of cowboys from out of town carrying fresh money. So Syl was free to flirt and window shop a little. Nothing wrong with that. But by the end of the night, every cowboy who'd come in knew who Syl was, and a fair few of them wanted to get to know her better. Tonight would be the same song and dance all over again.

"I was just looking."

"And the ones you actually hung all over?" I asked.

"I was just being friendly, thanks," she replied, jabbing me in the ribs. "And you're really one to talk. I think I saw you talk to less than a handful of people last night without scowling during the conversation."

I did scowl then. "You saying I can't be good company?"

"No, I'm saying you suck at being sociable."

"I can be sociable."

"Only when you drink."

"And I only drink because it's sociable."

"Same difference." Syl shrugged.

I sighed, not willing to keep arguing around and around in circles. I nudged Sir to the right, letting him make his way between a couple corrals. We could hear a bit of the cheering from the arena and Syl huffed.

"Why don't you watch the rodeo, like normal people?"

I shrugged. I grew up in this life. I watched when I was young, and participated when I got older. I was a great calf roper – had buckles to prove it. Now that I was back to just watching, it wasn't the same. I wanted to be competing again. So it was just easier not to watch.

"And just who would keep an eye on everything back here?" I asked, offering the other part of it – responsibility up to my eyebrows.

"Uh, anyone who wanted to make a couple bucks?" Syl chanced. "You just like being the boss up here on this big old horse."

I didn't argue. There was a perk to having the biggest horse in the barns – everyone knew you were the boss. Syl didn't bother pushing it, just resting her chin on my shoulder instead of digging it in.

"I wish I could find you a girl."

"Are you still on that?" I sighed. "I just sent my last one packing."

"And I told you so."

She did. Syl had been the only one who had come right out and told me that Carmen was no good for me and that it would end badly. Seeing as how Syl was the queen of bad break ups, I should have listened to her.

"I was hoping you'd skip saying that for once."

"And let you off easy?" she snorted. "Can I ask you something?"

"No."

"What do you think of marriage?" she asked, ignoring me.

"Why, Syl. I'm flattered and all," I drawled, earning another jab to the ribs for my trouble.

"Not you and me. Me and Tim."

I pulled Sir up short and looked at her over my shoulder. "I think that is a bad idea, girl."

"But –"

"No buts. Tim's gonna either end up in prison or end up dead, and you don't need the grief."

Hell, I didn't need the grief. She'd end up crying to me, then Tim would be pissed I was picking sides, if he was still alive. No, Syl needed a nice boy who wasn't going to hit her or leave her with nothing. I doubted Tim would ever ask, though. He might do something dumb like get Syl pregnant eventually, but hopefully they would be done with each other long before then.

"Do me a favour – find a nice boy to settle down with. Get married, have babies, fight and make up like mad so that you have something to yack my ear off about. Just don't settle. Not for Tim."

"And what if Tim is the only one who'll have me?"

Oh for the love of...

"Then you can give me another one of those 'I told you so' speeches."

Syl smiled a little, looking like she was a bit more reassured about whatever was in her head. Good. I would hate to think I was flapping my lips for nothing.

"Thanks, Bucky."

I groaned. "Don't call me that, especially in front of my horse."

Syl laughed, my head thumped, and Sir started off again.

I was still thinking about my conversation with Syl hours later when I was sitting with Jeff out on the grass, waiting for the clock to hit nine before we started off the fireworks. We mainly supervised, but I figured that was work all unto itself.

"Hey, Jeff? Would you marry Sylvia?"

Jeff glanced over at me, looking suspicious. "Why?"

"Just wondering."

"Nah, I'm good, thanks."

"I didn't mean really." I shook my head. "In a...pretend situation."

"Oh. I suppose so. Don't know her all that well. Dally used to talk about her a lot, but you know Dallas."

I did know Dallas. I knew that he would either complain about her, or brag up the sex. Those were the only reasons a guy brought up his girl around these parts. Jeff knew it just as well as I did, but he also knew that you really didn't know much else about the girl.

"Why you asking?"

"Because she's like my kid sister and that makes me pretty bias," I replied, glancing at my watch for the tenth time. "I told her there were guys out there who would marry her, and I always back up my say."

"That's a good thing to do, Pard." Jeff nodded. "What time is it?"

"Nearly nine."

"I hate waiting."

I hummed in agreement, watching as Jeff took out a cigarette. "What ever happened to that fire Marshall?"

I shrugged a little. "I don't know, but I'm ready for him if he shows up."

I patted my breast pocket over where I'd tucked the permit. It had taken me hours to find the thing, and when I had, I lit into Jeff something awful for misfiling it with last years' taxes.

Jeff laughed, knowing I'd had it on me since I'd found it. I gave him a hard look until he clammed up a bit, smiling.

"Boy, howdy. If your granddaddy could see you now..."

I wanted to roll my eyes. "I think he'd smack me if I couldn't remember the one thing that could save my ass."

"You've had your moments, Pard."

I didn't bother asking about what those moments were. There were a lot of things I'd done when I was drinking that I wasn't proud of.

I glanced at my watch again and sighed. There was no way I could stand just sitting and waiting anymore.

"Frank?" I hollered down at where the boys were standing with the primed and ready fireworks. "Light 'em up."

"I thought you said we had time?" Jeff commented.

"Yeah, but I'm the Boss, remember?"

Jeff smiled, looking awed when the first explosion occurred, just like he always did. I had to hand it to him – I couldn't remember being that awed in my entire life.

"Hold on! Just wait a minute!"

I glanced over at where there was some guy with a balding head hopping up and down by Frank. Frank was ignoring him, but the guy didn't look like he was just going to jump around forever. And I was right. Jeff and I were walking over there when Frank shrugged the guy's hand off his shoulder, before punching him in the gut. The guy doubled over and I felt like sighing. Never could get through one rodeo where things went off without a hitch. At least the boys were still sending the fireworks off, though. The last thing I needed was an interruption because they figured to help Frank beat the guy up.

Jeff and I both grabbed a hold of the guy and hauled him far enough back that we might be able to get a conversation out of him. He looked fit to be tied as he struggled between Jeff and me.

"Easy now, Pard," Jeff huffed as we let him go. "You really shouldn't be that close to those things."

"I have every right to be down there!" He snapped. "Where is Buck Merrill?"

"You're lookin' at him," I told him, arms crossed over my chest.

The guy looked me up and down, something between annoyance and disbelief on his face. I didn't take it personally.

"I'm Tom Phillips, Fire Marshall."

He said it with all the pomp and circumstance I'm sure he put on the job. Jeff and I just weren't that impressed. We'd met enough law enforcement to know that some Fire Marshall didn't have much clout.

"And I specifically told you there would be no light show," he snapped, like I was some kid who just wasn't listening to him.

I planted my feet a little, reaching into my pocket for my copy of the damn permit. It had been a damn good thing I had anticipated some crap like this happening.

"This permit says I can."

"And I say you can't!"

We weren't big on paper in my family. We believed that people should say what they mean, and follow through on what they promise. I'd learned quick that city people didn't think that way. They thought on paper, and I was glad I actually had that on my side for once.

"Listen, I don't care what you say. I'm not paying and I have the paper to prove I can do what I'm doing."

"And I said no! If you keep going, I will call the authorities. And who do you think they're going to believe on this one? You don't exactly have the same shining reputation as a government official."

I raised an eyebrow, exchanging a look with Jeff. I didn't know much about the government, but it wasn't buying him any brownie points with either of us. And I was still standing by the fact that paper was paper.

"I'll tell everyone that paper is fake!" Phillips crowed, like he had been picking my thoughts.

I rubbed at the spot beside my right eye that seemed to act up when other folks got uppity. It was just a damn light show. It made every person in the whole city happy, but not this greedy sod. I just didn't get it.

"You know, I am sick of people like you and Pete who think they can shove everyone around," I growled at him, watching as Phillips blinked. "Get lost before the boys get any edgier."

I gestured at where the three boys who had been working on the fireworks were watching our conversation, waiting for any invitation to join in. Jeff was even standing tall with his arms crossed. This could easily turn into a rather uneven fight, and I could see Phillips figuring that out as his face went a shade lighter.

"I'll have you know that this isn't over." Phillips was moving off, regardless of how 'over' this was or was not.

"City folk," I muttered, watching him go.

"Amen to that, Boss," Jeff agreed.

I didn't bother correcting Jeff on the fact he was a city person, too. He was just honorary country by working for me, and it was enough.

"Why is it that all the weird ones come out on the busy weekends?"

"That's just our luck," I replied, waving at Frank to keep the show going. I wasn't afraid of that pencil necked Phillips. If he had really meant business, he would have brought his muscle with him. I'd seen enough fights to know how a showdown went. Damn City Folk...

"Our luck? Heck, Boss – that luck is all yours."

I huffed, smirking at Jeff. The sky was getting even darker as we stood there, but I knew he saw the little slip.

"C'mon, Jeff. I'll buy you a beer."

"Now you're talking!"

Jeff grinned like I had just made his night and led the way towards where my truck was. I was still hungover, it was going to be one long day tomorrow, and if I had any sense, I would have been going to bed instead of a drinking with Jeff. But we'd won a little victory.

And I never claimed to be all that smart.

* * *

Well, another chapter down!

Any comments at all are welcome, and flames accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


	9. Chapter 9

Well, not so bad on the updating front. However, this is not one of my favorite chapters. Oh well. Y'all can thank Cheap Indifference for the prodding on getting this one posted.

Disclaimer - The usual

Chapter 8 The Slash J Rodeo Wrap Up

I heard somewhere that Sunday was a day of rest for most folks. I wondered if those folks ever made an exception for some things. Usually, Sundays were my worst hangover days, so they were all about rest. But not when there was a rodeo in town.

Minus the whole Phillips issue, the rest of the rodeo was going off without a hitch. Sunday was the finals, and most of the exciting action was taking place. I normally watched the finals, but I mentioned that I was busy at work on this fine Sunday. Not only was I still supervising, I also had a second job that didn't pay any better, but I did enjoy it. Lord knows I would always have a soft spot for kids.

Cody was tucked in front of me on Sir's back, looking at everything like a new born colt. I had been appalled to hear that this was the boy's first time at a rodeo and insisted he come and see some of it. I don't think Jo minded, seeing as how she had handed the kid off to me for free babysitting. She and Kim spent a lot of time together and a date at the rodeo was right up their alley, so I figure she was killing two birds with one stone or some other nonsense like that. For his part, Cody really took to sitting on the back of a horse and seemed more than happy to ride around with me. And believe me, we'd seen near every corner of the place in the last couple hours. That was why I had decided to park us by the fence for a bit of a rest. We could see the main arena from here. Barrel racing finals were going on, and I never minded watching that. There was nothing prettier than a girl on the back of a horse.

"Buck, what's dis?"

I was distracted from my thoughts when Cody pointed at one of the saddles on the fence beside us. It took me a minute to figure out there was a specific part he was pointing to.

"That?" I asked, picking up the woolly underbelly cinch. "This is just another cinch. You tuck it up under the horse or bull's belly and it itches something awful, so they buck and jump to get away from it."

"Why?"

"Well, bucking and jumping is naughty, and we spend a lot of time training them to be good. But cowboys in the rodeo need them to jump and buck and twist so they can prove who's the best at hanging on. This just makes it so the horse or bull doesn't get in trouble."

"Oh. That's neat."

"Yeah," I replied, thinking it was kind of cruel when you spelled it out like that. Still, it didn't hurt the animals none, so I was ok with it.

"Buck?"

"Yeah?" I sighed, itching for a smoke.

"Why you called Buck?"

I frowned a bit. Momma and Daddy weren't big on records, so if I had any other name than Buck, I was none the wiser. Once in a while, I got landed with all three names because I was in some trouble. Mostly, I was just plain old Buck. It didn't bother me none. One name was as good as another. Wouldn't have changed who I was if my name happened to be something fancy like Belford or Jefferson.

"It's my name."

"It's what horses do!" Cody yelped.

"It is," I agreed. "My folks liked names like that. I have a brother named Trip."

Cody giggled at that. "Silly!"

"I suppose it is a might odd," I offered. "I even had a brother named Sandy."

"Sandy is my cousin Sandy's name," Cody told me. "She's a girl."

"Well, my Sandy was a boy."

"Silly!" Cody insisted. "Ma!"

I spotted both Jo and Kim making their way over. Cody was waving excitedly, bouncing a bit. Sir shifted in annoyance, so I scratched his hip in response.

"Hi, baby," Jo replied, coming to a stop beside us. "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah!" Cody nodded enthusiastically. "Buck has lots of stories!"

"I'll bet he does."

Jo sent me a curious look and I shrugged. "I behaved myself."

Kim smiled at that, holding out his arms for the kid. "Come on. A little birdie told me that Buck has an important job in a couple minutes."

"You do?" Cody gave me a curious look and I nodded.

It was tradition that everyone on the rodeo board give out one award. I always managed to get landed with Barrel Racing. I had the feeling that the rest of the owners got a kick out of making me blush like a kid in front of a pretty girl. Now, it was just routine, and I approached it as casually as I could. Still, it was always more attention than I wanted.

"Yep. Couldn't go on without me. I am the boss, afterall," I told him, watching as he nodded in understanding.

"Bye, Buck! Bye, Sir!" Cody called as I handed him down to Kim.

Sir only bothered to flick an ear. Not a whole lot fazed him. Some days I wished I was more like my horse. Jo, Kim, and Cody all made their way towards the stands, passing Jake. Jake was one of the hands I'd had around as long as Jeff. He was carrying a bunch of flowers and a cheque. I sighed, taking the hint. I supposed it was show time.

"Last horse, Boss," Jake told me, stretching up to pass me everything he was carrying.

"Thanks."

I glanced towards the arena again. There was a slight blonde on the back of a slight bay. They were making good time, until her horse's flank hit the second barrel, knocking it over completely. That was going to cost her.

It was a few minutes later when the gate opened up for me, and I walked Sir out towards the centre of the arena. The announcer was listing off sponsors, so I waited, wishing he would just get on with it.

"_And this year's winner – Wendy Anne Dalton!"_

The crowd cheered as a pretty blonde walked a grey horse towards me, waving at the crowd. When she got close enough, she smiled widely at me. I felt myself blushing. Now, a pretty girl I could handle in a smaller setting. Having one smiling at me in front of this crowd was a might intimidating. Not that many pretty girls ever smiled at me like that. I supposed the dozen roses and the hundred dollars were a big help.

"Congratulations," I told her, handing over the cheque and the flowers.

"Thanks," she beamed, standing up in her stirrups so she could lean up and over to put a kiss on my cheek.

The crowd cheered and I blushed something awful.

"_You already won that, little lady!" _The announcer, Hop, laughed. _"No need to kiss the boss!"_

Feeling like my cheeks were going to go up in flames if I sat there any longer, I tipped my hat and pulled Sir back towards the gate. He didn't waste any time turning up dust and getting the hell out of there.

I didn't just get the hell out of the arena. I put Sir up in the barn and skedaddled all the way back to the bar where I spent the better part of the afternoon getting the place ready for the wrap up party that night. Beer had to be stocked, bottles had to be arranged, mugs had to be polished, and every surface had to be wiped up. I'd even lined up the best tracks that country music had to offer, mindful that the crowd would mostly be cowboys, cowgirls, and the odd Greaser mixed in. It always made for a pretty wild night.

I wasn't disappointed.

It seemed like as soon as sundown hit, every cowboy in the state was in the bar, drinking for all they were worth. But the drinking often came with stupidity.

"Stoney, get on down!"

I groaned when I saw that there was some drunk cowboy up on a table, doing something stupid. That made the fourth one since the party had started. His friend, the one who had been yelling to get him down, forcibly grabbed his ankle, pulling Stoney off.

Steve Randle and Two-Bit Mathews were sporting huge smirks from where they were sitting at one of the back tables with me and a couple of the Slash J boys. I sent them both a look, causing Mathews to actually chuckle. It was just my luck that they were the only people in the whole room who wanted to have a game of poker. Folks were visiting, dancing, and enjoying Hank Williams around us, while Jo and Kim worked to keep them liquored up. All and all, folks were having a good time. Well, folks who weren't me. I was already down more money than I had planned on, and the game was far from over.

"You sure you have time to play poker with us?" Randle asked, noticing how I was watching the people around us to make sure they weren't doing anything too dumb. It would be just my luck that someone would do something to attract the fuzz or need an ambulance called in. I just didn't need the grief, not when everything had gone so well with the rodeo.

"You just want me to walk away from all the money you've been taking me for tonight," I surmised, glancing down at the horrible poker hand he'd dealt me.

"You know, you are the only person alive who knows they're bad at poker, but still plays," Jake pointed out, thumbing through his own cards.

"Shut up and bid," I grumbled.

"Fine. Ten cents." Jake tossed a coin in the middle.

"I'll match that, and up you another ten," Randle said, throwing his own two bits in.

"I'll fold," Mathews sighed, putting his own cards face down on the table. "I've got more than enough off Buck to pay my tab for the night."

"Miracles never cease," I muttered, throwing in twenty five cents. "Call."

I laid down my two pair, watching as Randle laid down four of a kind, and Jake followed up with a straight. I cursed, pushing the cards away. That hand brought the total of everything I'd lost tonight up to a whole ten dollars.

"Don't worry, Buck. One of these day's you'll catch on," Steve told me, looking far too pleased with himself.

"And until that happens, I'm going to keep drinking on your buck, Buck," Mathews threw in, still god awful pleasant.

"Yeah, yeah." I settled back, watching as Jake shuffled. I might have a chance with him dealing.

"Hey, Boss?" I glanced over at Frank, seeing him nod at something over my shoulder.

I frowned, turning my head to see what he was looking at. Leaning against the bar was none other than Wendy Anne Dalton. She was talking to another girl, but she was still glancing at our table out of the corner of her eye. I felt like rolling my eyes. If Randle or Mathews were interested, they'd be up and over there by now. Lord knows Frank, Jake, and me were nothing worth looking at.

"Yeah, so?" I grumbled.

"If I had a pretty girl like that looking at me, I wouldn't be sitting over here," Jake threw in, still shuffling the cards.

"Oh, come off it. She wasn't looking at me," I sighed, irritated that they wanted me to go and make a fool of myself.

"I think it's time for an experiment," Mathews stage whispered to Randle, who nodded.

I just watched as they both got up to go on over to where the girls were. They both casually leaned on the bar, trying to chat up the girls. I was surprised as hell when Wendy laughed, shook her head, and side stepped around Randle so she had a good view of our table. Feeling like I had something to prove, I met her eyes and she patted the bar beside her, clearly an invitation to join her.

I still felt like an idiot as I scooped up the last few coins I had on the table and made my way over. I gestured at Kim for another beer as I settled in.

"Hi," I greeted, giving her a sideways glance.

"Buck, right?" she asked, turning towards me, smiling.

"Yeah. Buck Merrill," I told her, offering her my hand.

She laughed, taking it, but I still felt like an idiot. I'd never been good with girls. I either treated them like they were my kid sisters or I was awkward. Lord only knew how I landed Carmen. She seemed to think my timid act was cute, but then, she also liked the fact I owned this place, and had stock in the Slash J. Clearly, none of that had been enough for her.

"Wendy Dalton."

"Congratulations on winning," I offered, trying to make conversation.

"I owe all the credit to my horse." She smiled. "You were a pretty impressive looking horse, yourself."

I smiled a little, shrugging as I began to tell her about Sir. The next thing I knew, we'd been talking for a few hours, and I had a couple empty bottles setting in front of me. I was really enjoying talking to a girl for the first time in my life as I rambled on about everything.

"Hey, Boss?" Kim interrupted, bringing me out of a ramble about my Granddaddy's old still. "Jo and I want to start cleaning up."

I glanced at the clock, seeing it was after two, and that Wendy and I were the only ones still in the room who weren't getting paid to be there. I grinned, feeling pretty sheepish for keeping her so long.

"Thanks, Kim." I nodded, turning my full attention to Wendy. "I'm sorry for keeping you here so late. I should drive you where you're supposed to be."

I stood up, feeling my legs tremble for a minute before I got my land legs back. I was more than aware that I couldn't drive anyone anywhere. Maybe Kim would take her. Wendy was smiling at me, shaking her head a little. I felt sheepish again. I wasn't drunk, just pleasantly relaxed, and a bit lighter than usual, if a bit uncoordinated for it.

"You know, I have a better idea."

Before I could ask what that idea was, she leaned up and kissed me. I blinked back at her, a huge, goofy grin on my face. She was smiling gently at me, leaning in close to ask me where my bed was.

Now, had I been sober, I would have told her that I liked her. I would have told her that she was a real nice gal. And then, I would have offered her a room upstairs and gone to bed. But I was warm, relaxed, and couldn't think of a good reason not to show her where I lived.

"I like that idea," I agreed, hooking an arm around her waist, and guiding her out of the room. "But you gotta tell me first – why me? I mean, I gave you roses and money, but that can't be it."

She laughed a little. "Because you're a nice guy, the only nice guy I've met in a long time. And to top it off, you're good looking, especially when you blush."

I grinned a little, feeling a blush building. Wendy laughed again and I led her to the main stairs.

"Now, that's an answer I can live with."

* * *

Well, another chapter down.

Any comments at all are welcome and flames are accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


	10. Chapter 10

Well, in honour of the birthday of someone very near and dear to my heart, an update! He actually really helped me put together the new character appearing in this chapter! Hopefully you all enjoy! In other news, my NANO is still going strong, and my Stats homework is...not! Ah well, life is too short to worry about how to find the mean score in a group of numbers. And that pretty much is all I had to say, so moving along...

Disclaimer: The Usual.

Chapter 9 Careful What You Wish For

June rolled into July, just like it always did, and everything dried up. I was used to it, seeing as how this was Oklahoma. I didn't complain about it, either – it was good for business. The hotter it got, the more people wanted to just set and drink. Now, it was a well known fact that booze dehydrated a body, and on a hot day it worked even faster. But booze also tricked a body something awful. It was wet, and it was cold, and it hit the spot.

I made sure to keep the booze cold during the summer months for that reason. I was fairly certain that I was the only one in town who was stashing brandy, whiskey, bourbon, vodka, and anything else wet right beside the beer in the fridge. Fancy folk would tell you that I was ruining the alcohol, but I couldn't remember the last time I got anyone in the bar who was fancy enough to care. The bar was always full of Greasers, old timers, and country men who came for a good time. No one judged anyone else, and no one was up for fighting when it got this hot out. The bar was honestly my favourite place to be from June to September.

Outside the bar was a whole other story. It seemed like folks had a lot of problems going on. There was Vietnam – a war I'd lost track of because it had been going on for so long, so far away – and the ever rising inflation on prices. Neither was a big concern for me. The government didn't draft people who ran businesses, and because people would always drink alcohol, I didn't have to worry about losing my shirt, either.

Life as I knew it was good. I just hoped it stayed settled for a while.

Things were pretty tame at the Slash J, like they always were between rodeos. The people who boarded stock were there a might more, mainly so their kids could get riding lessons while they were out of school. That was something Jeff managed to organize well enough. Jeff may not have had much people sense, but kids seemed to like him about as well as horses did. Really, all I was needed for was signing off on the normal bills, and going to the board meetings to make sure the partners were still happy.

So I spent more of my time at the bar. For the first time in nearly two years it was making a noticeable profit, even with two permanent people on staff. I was even getting used to Kim and Jo's little relationship. It just meant that I had to give the pair of them the same nights off, which meant a bit more work for yours truly, but it also meant that I could pick a couple nights off a week for myself. I hadn't managed that since before I'd fired Pete. He'd lulled me into believing that I could trust him with the bar. Damn Pete. I felt like a fool every time I thought about how well he'd managed to swindle me. I really owed Jeff for pointing Jo in my direction.

Speaking of Jeff, the damndest thing happened – he found himself a girl. Now, I had only seen her once or twice, and I could assure you she was no kid, and no horse. The important thing was, Jeff was happy with her, and she seemed to be happy with Jeff. She filled up all of his free time well enough.

That left me – Buck Merrill. Bar owner, barn manager, bad poker player, number one baby sitter, and still as single as they came. I didn't mind the babysitting part as much as I thought I would. The kid was...growing on me. But that was getting to be a problem, too. Having someone so small wanting to show me everything he found interesting about the world was something I had forced myself to forget a long time ago. It got me to wondering about my own kid brother. He'd be eighteen last month – finally an adult. And that would mean I'd missed seven birthdays. It also meant that Sandy had almost been gone seven years, too. I didn't think about either of them much. It made me want things I'd been missing. Sandy was the only person alive who ever understood me, and Trip was the only person who ever looked up to me like I was worth something. Little good it did me now.

I shook my head a bit. It was the first week of July, so I was up to my ears in the newest delivery of booze. Someone had to do inventory on it, and it was dragging on something awful in the hot back room. It was no wonder my thoughts were wandering the way they were. I always did get scatterbrained when I was sweating like mad. So far, I had managed to get through three kinds of beer, but there were another three to go, then the liquor to sort out. Once that was counted and stocked, there was soda pop. At the rate I was going, it would be midnight before I got it all figured. By then, it might have cooled down enough to get through it faster, too.

"Hey, Buck?"

I sighed to myself. That was if I could get through ten minutes without someone needing me. It seemed like they only ever needed me on inventory night.

"Yeah, Jo?" I asked, not looking up from my count of one of the boxes.

"There's a kid out front."

"I told you, I don't care if they drink here, but they get cut off after two."

In the past, I'd had minors and under aged kids drunk all over the place. That was back when I was too drunk to care. Now, I knew how much it cost to pay off the fuzz about that sorta stuff. Thus the two max policy. I may have been reformed, but I wasn't exactly dead. I needed some of that business, and I figured it was better they drink one or two at my place than ending up in a car somewhere, driving around, finding Greasers, getting stabbed, and ruining a whole pile of lives because no one gave 'em a place to be, told 'em to stop drinking before they got drunk...

Jo sighed, leaning on the door frame. I finished the box I was on and glanced up at her, wondering why she was still standing there.

"Jo, I got a lot to get done," I told her.

"Well, I have the feeling you're not getting any farther than this tonight. The kid's asking for you."

I frowned. I didn't know any kids, not anymore. The only ones that came to mind were Ponyboy Curtis, and Curly Shepard. Baby Shepard was in jail for the next six months, and Baby Curtis was Baby Curtis. The point was, there was no way that either of them was asking for me.

"Great," I muttered, motioning Jo towards the bar. "Just what I need."

I stepped out into the bar and looked around for this kid Jo was talking about. I wasn't prepared for who I saw waiting.

At the close end of the bar, there was a kid of about eighteen, He was wearing a dusty jacket, aimlessly looking at the bottles along the back wall of the bar. He even casually fluttered the blond bangs off his forehead with a long, bored breath. He was your typical six foot cowboy.

But I was floored because he wasn't just your typical cowboy. God, I never once thought about my kid brother growing up on me. And I never expected he would come here. He'd known where I was for seven years, after all. He had no right to throw me off like this.

His green eyes landed on me then, and a huge, white, gleaming smile split his face near in two. He was actually happy to see me. I couldn't do anything but stand there and watch him.

"Buck!" His tone was even overjoyed.

"Trip," I replied, watching as he came around the bar to where I was standing.

And if I wasn't prepared to see my brother in the bar, I sure as hell wasn't prepared for the way he threw his arms around me and squeezed tight. I froze, feeling both out of place and like I had come home all at once. Trip had hugged me like this on the day Daddy shipped me off here. Of course, Trip had been sobbing, trying to fuse us together. I'd hugged him back just as tight back then. But now I was stiff as a corpse, barely daring to breathe.

When he pulled back, his eyes were full of that same joy. I imagine mine were confused, panicked, and scared.

"Wow, I wasn't sure I'd know who you were, but I know you! You look like Daddy," Trip told me, rambling in a drawl that could only come from growing up in a truck with Daddy.

"I don't look a thing like him," I told Trip.

It was a lie. Everyone told me that I looked like Granddaddy, and Daddy just happened to look like him, too. But looks were as far as it went. I was nothing like Daddy and resented the comparison. Daddy was loud, harsh, violent at times, and continuously pissed off at me. Granddaddy was growly, but he meant well and taught me everything he knew. He gave me a life, and I may not have turned out the way he wanted me to, but I did better than I would have otherwise.

"Right," Trip chuckled, not catching my drift.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. He couldn't be here. He was supposed to be off living with Daddy.

Trip's smile – Mom's smile, Sandy's smile – faded, and he offered me a more guarded one. "You got an office or somethin' so we can talk?"

I nodded, gesturing that he should follow me. I led him out through the kitchen to where the break spot was. I did a lot of my smoking out here, and if I was going to have a talk with my brother, it was likely that I would need a cigarette before we were through.

The alley was quiet as I sat on one of the crates, gesturing at Tip to take the other. He gave the alley a once over before sitting down. He slipped the duffle off his shoulder, laying it at his feet, before rubbing his hands over his knees. I knew that motion. The kid was anxious.

"Buck, I ain't gonna beat around the bush. I need a favour."

"Figures," I sighed, reaching into my pocket for the pack I kept there.

"You didn't think I came just to visit?" He looked hurt.

"What's the favour?" I prompted, not willing to get into it with my brother.

"Well, I'm eighteen now. I'm a grown man with grown problems," he declared. "And like a grown man, I can't keep dependin' on Daddy for everythin'..."

"What did you do?" I asked, striking a match, and lighting my cigarette.

"How'd you know...?" He just shook his head. "See, it's like this. I rodeo now, have for a while, and when I was down in Del Rio, I may have...had a thing."

I waited, hoping he'd find his point soon.

"She was really pretty, and I was looking for a good time, and then it's not until after when she mentions she already has a cowboy, and..." Trip blew out a long breath of air. "I need a place to lay low. It'll just be until he gets over that murderous urge to shoot me or stab me with pointy objects."

"You really put your foot in it," I sighed.

No wonder he couldn't go to Daddy about this. The old man would blow a fuse, and then he just might have popped Trip one for being an idiot.

"I know. You wanna hear the worst of it? He's Drew Perry."

"Damn it," I sighed.

"I know!" Trip groaned.

Drew Perry wasn't a man you forgot easily. He was big, he was mean, his temper was legendary, and he rode the circuit. That meant he could potentially roll through Tulsa in September when we hosted our leg of the pro rodeo. But that also meant he wouldn't be passing through here for two months. It probably wouldn't be enough time for Perry to cool off, but it would buy Trip some time to figure out what he was going to do next. He was right to be scared. Perry had been tied to a few different deaths over the past few years. Nothing ever made it to trial, though. He was the last person Trip needed to get into a pissing match with.

But, I had to give the kid a bit of credit. He'd come to the right place. I wasn't a big name in the rodeo business. I was behind the scenes nowadays, I was settled in one place, and I had places I could hide him, if need be. From my point of view, it was harder. I didn't know him anymore. I didn't owe him anything, and taking him in was just going to bring me trouble I didn't need. He was grown, he could take care of himself, but clearly he still needed someone to look out for him.

I took a long drag. God, it was Dallas all over again.

"Buck, I know I got no right to ask, but I got nowhere else to go."

"What about Daddy?" I asked, causing my brother to let out a long breath.

"I didn't exactly tell him I was comin' here. I didn't exactly tell him much of anything, really. Just left him a note that I was in a bind and I skedaddled."

"He's probably pissed as hell at you," I sighed.

"He'd be even more pissed if I told him where I was goin'." He sent me a long, guilty look.

I knew my name was mud with Daddy, and he would be mighty pissed if he found out where the kid was. Perry would be the least of my worries then.

"An' if I had waited for him to come back from the binger he was on, I bet you I'd have been shipped off to Robbie's before I could blink."

I blinked then. Robbie was one of Dad's long term gals. Every time we were in Kansas, Dad made an excuse to stop by Robbie's house. She had a farm with lots of chickens. But I'd seen the way she leered at Sandy, and then me when I was older. I had no doubt in my mind that Daddy wouldn't even be at the end of the driveway before she jumped Trip.

"So I'm supposed to pull you out of the fire, and rearrange my life because you screwed up?" I asked, flicking my ashes in his direction.

"Why not? Granddaddy did it for you."

I felt like I'd been punched. That blunt jab about the past was Daddy's influence, but the groan and the pained look that followed? That was all Trip.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. I just meant that Granddaddy – he helped you out when you needed it. That's what good family does. The Buck I remember was good family."

"What? I was the fuck up middle child," I dismissed, taking another drag.

"You were always the one who helped me out. That is good family in my books."

I sighed. He sure knew how to grab me by the balls. Damn kid.

"If you're going to stay here, you're going to earn your keep."

Trip's lip tipped up into a crooked grin. "Sounds fine."

"And you stay the hell out of trouble – hear me?"

"I hear ya."

I glanced from my brother to the end of the cigarette, dropping it on the ground. I squished it under my boot as I stood up, motioning Trip up, too.

"C'mon, I'll show you to your room. Is this all you have?" I asked, noting the duffle didn't look half full.

"Give or take a Pala-mine-o."

I drew up short there. Palomino? That was a...horse.

"You brought a horse?"

"His name's Cowboy." Trip grinned.

"Why did you bring a horse?"

"How do you think I got here?" He asked, looking like it was obvious.

"Where is the horse now?" I asked, wondering if he had been stupid enough to leave it out front.

"I'm not slow. I asked around for where the rodeo boarded horses and had him put up down at the Slash J."

Trip gave me another one of those crooked smiles, that painful one that reminded me of people I had been without for a long time, and I just nodded. Yeah, he sure wasn't slow when it came to his horse at least. Seems Daddy managed to drill that into his head well enough.

"Welcome to Merrill's," I began, leading him around the back to the fire stairs.

"It looks right nice," Trip commented, following along.

As we climbed, I told my brother all about the place. I thought the back way would be best so we wouldn't end up parading through the bar. I wasn't quite sure what I was going to say when I did walk back in there. Explaining a kid brother you hadn't seen in seven years wasn't something you did ten minutes after re-meeting the kid.

"The big change Granddaddy made was putting in an apartment about thirty or so years ago. That's where I live. I'll allow you to hang your hat in my spare room."

"Mighty kind of you." Trip sounded far too amused.

"Yeah, well, just wait. You'll be splitting the cooking and the cleaning with me," I told him evenly. "And I only do both well enough to survive."

Trip chuckled and I rolled my eyes. He'd see just how funny that was.

Trip was silent by the time we got up to the apartment. I closed the door behind us, watching as he wandered around the main room, wide-eyed wonder in his eyes. Now, that was the kid I remembered.

"It sure is nice."

"Its home," I offered. "Take your boots off or it won't stay nice for long."

"Alright," he agreed, leaning against the wall to tug his boots off. "This is more of a home than I can remember having."

I didn't argue with him. I knew what he was talking about. Sandy had made every place a home, always pushing Daddy to find somewhere with four walls, a roof, and reasonably liveable. But mostly, he made sure that we were all happy, that we were always together. With just Daddy around, I imagine Trip hadn't spent any time in a place that felt like home.

"Come on. I'll let you bunk in Granddaddy's old room."

Trip nodded, following me to where the bedrooms were. It was the bigger of the two rooms, but it had been Granddaddy's and I just didn't think I could ever sleep in there. He still haunted me, I suppose, just the way Sandy did.

Trip wandered into the room, looking around, and finally dropping his bag on the bed. All Granddaddy's things were exactly the way he left them on the day he died. I hadn't had the heart to throw any of it out. There was laundry in the hamper, clean clothes in the closet. The dresser and night table were covered with odds and ends that every good cowboy kept in his pockets – twine, toothpicks, coins, and a pocket knife. Trip could sort it out. He didn't know the man, so it would probably be easier for him than me.

"Thanks, Bucky...it's homey."

No, it was dusty. Everything was covered in dust after three years of being shut away.

"I wasn't expecting anyone, so it's not cleaned out. You can get rid of anything in here that you don't need or want or end up tripping over."

Trip nodded again, picking up a picture of Granny off the bedside table. You could see the void in the dust where it had sat for so many years.

"Did you ever meet her?" he asked, gesturing at me with the picture.

"Once. Sandy and me were real small. I remember she really liked my hair, and that she made one hell of a pie."

Trip grinned a bit, putting the frame back. "Sounds like Granddaddy lucked out."

Merrill men were notoriously bad cooks, so we had to get lucky and find women who could cook. I'd learned a fair bit because Granddaddy's idea of food wasn't fit for living creatures. Sandy'd learned because Daddy was worse. Trip would learn, too.

"You can come and go as you please," I offered, feeling awkward just standing there. "I should get back down stairs."

Trip nodded, still looking around, and I decided he would be fine without me. I had bottles to inventory, after all. And I needed some time to think about what I had just done. I was torn between having my brother back, and getting to know this perfect stranger again. All we shared was blood and some memories I'd have liked to permanently forget. I was thanking god that he only had Sandy's smile. I didn't know if I could bared looking at him if he looked more like Sandy.

Kim and Jo were both eyeing me when I came back downstairs. I sighed, reaching for the closest bottle of bourbon and poured myself a glass.

"That was Trip. He's my brother and he's going to be here for a spell."

"I thought he looked familiar," Kim said with a nod, curiosity apparently satisfied.

"That'll be nice for you," Jo threw in.

I huffed, not making up my mind one way or the other. I just finished my drink, rounded the bar, and went right back to counting bottles. Who would have thought that in under the space of an hour I would want to be working on the one thing I hated more than anything?

Earlier today, I only wished I had my brother back, knew how he was doing. Now it looked like I had gotten exactly what I wanted – and then some. I guess there was something to be said for being careful about what you wished for.

* * *

Well, things never stay the same long for our intrepid hero!

Any comments at all are welcome and flames accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!


	11. Chapter 11

Howdy all! This chapter is one that had me stuck for months until I rewrote it today. So hopefully it works for you all, even if it is a bit of a filler! Thanks go out to Cheap Indifference for reminding me that there's brilliance somewhere deep down in me.

Disclaimer: The Usual.

Chapter 10 Life With Trip

The next morning, I woke up to the sounds of someone messing around in the main room of the apartment. It took me a minute to remember what happened the night before and I sighed, letting out a long breath. It wasn't that I didn't want Trip here. I just didn't know if I could do this. It had been a long time since I'd lived with anyone. The last person had been Granddaddy, seeing as how Carmen never officially moved in – despite the massive amount of clothing that seemed to inhabit my closet – and she was screwing Pete when she was here...

Thoughts like that weren't helping things. So I rolled out of bed and rubbed the sleep out of my face. When I made it out to the living room, I could smell food cooking. By food cooking, I meant that it smelled like it was burning. I could survive on burnt. Trip was in the kitchen, standing at the stove. I didn't know what he was up to, but he was cursing up a small storm.

"Hey, morning!" Trip greeted, catching sight of me over his shoulder. "I'm making breakfast, if you're hungry."

I nodded. "I'm hungry. What are you burning?"

Trip ducked his head a little, gesturing helplessly at the frying pan in front of him. "Eggs."

"Here," I sighed coming over. "Every grown man should know how to at least cook a damn egg."

Trip sent me a sheepish look, moving off to the side so I could take a look at the mess he called breakfast. He had cooked the two eggs in the pan so that they were hard as rocks. With a sigh, I grabbed a towel to pull the pan off the stove and scooped the eggs into the trash. I set the pan back on the stove and turned towards the icebox, nearly walking right into Trip. Trip quickly ducked out of the way, shoulders a bit hunched and I frowned. I knew that reaction well, mostly because it was how all three of us acted around Daddy. We'd learned young to duck and wait to see if he was going to smack us or not.

I hated the way he flinched. If I ever hit him, it would be over something serious, not for being underfoot. For his part, Trip brushed it off with a grin, watching as I began to cook the eggs properly. So I didn't say anything about it, hoping he would figure it out for himself. Still, anytime I tried to move, I seemed to trip over the kid. He was sure living up to his name.

Finally, we sat down for a quiet breakfast at the table, Trip chewing his food like he hadn't eaten in a week, and for all I knew that could have been the case. I spent most of the meal watching him out of the corner of my eye, making small talk about his sleep and if the sheets were dusty. The kid seemed to be relaxing now that we had a table between us. Not for the first time, I wanted to have a few words with Daddy about his parenting style.

"So, do you have a lot to do today?"

I shrugged a might. Yeah, I had a lot to do today. There was always a lot to do.

"No more than usual. I have to be down at the barns in the morning, then the bar in the afternoon."

"The barns?" Trip looked up, half interested, and half hopeful. "Can I come?"

"I already told you that you could come and go as you pleased, but if you want to tag along, I don't mind."

"Great! I can't wait to show you my horse!"

"You said he was a Palomino?" I asked and Trip nodded. "What happened to Comanche?"

"That horse was old when you and Sandy were riding him. Daddy finally retired him to a farm a couple years back. I bought Cowboy with my own money when he was no more than two years old."

I nodded. Comanche was older than sin. But he had been a good horse. All three of us had learned how to ride on him, seeing as how we couldn't ride Missouri Mud – Daddy's rodeo horse. He had to be at least 12 years old though, and most likely retired too. Nothing ever stayed the same.

"Well, I look forward to seeing this horse of yours," I replied, not knowing what else I could say there.

So that was how Trip ended up trailing me into the barns half an hour later. He followed me around in my routine for a few minutes before steering me towards the north end where there were always a few empty stalls for rodeos and the like.

His horse was one of the prettiest I'd ever seen. And with the amount of groomed stock I'd had through here that was saying something.

"Hi, Pard," Trip greeted, causing the horse's ears to perk and his nose to turn towards us. "Buck, this is Cowboy."

Cowboy was about fifteen or sixteen hands, a yellow tinted cream color, with a white mane, tail, and blaze. But it was the soft brown eyes, and the charmingly batted lashes that drew you in. Trip was petting the horse like he was a big cat or something. The horse nuzzled him back, clearly happy to see my brother. Still, it was eyeing me, curiously.

"Hello," I greeted, reaching a hand out to rub his nose.

There was a loud huff of air behind me, and I glanced at where Sir was giving me a clearly unimpressed look. My horse normally wasn't so territorial, but I wasn't about to question it.

"Trip, meet Sir," I introduced, fishing through my pockets for a sugar cube.

"Well," Trip marvelled, following me across the isle. "Aren't you a big boy."

Sir didn't give him the time of day, trying to get at my pocket for the sugar. Horse after my own heart...

"Biggest horse in the barns," I informed him, finally passing off a cube to Sir.

"I don't doubt it. Well, let's get 'em movin'," Trip suggested, slipping into Cowboy's stall.

"I have some work to do, but you go ahead."

Trip just shrugged, clearly not bothered by that. He just clipped a lead to Cowboy's halter, tossed it over the horse's shoulders, and clicked his tongue for the horse to follow him out. I watched as my brother didn't touch the lead, the damn thing just followed along like a big puppy. Sir huffed again, and I patted his nose in agreement. Cowboy wasn't a horse. I didn't know what he was, but that wasn't it.

I moved off towards the office, walking in to the usual pile of papers. Jeff was already behind the desk, phone cradled between his shoulder and ear.

"Well, darlin', the boss just walked in, so I can ask him."

"Jeff," I sighed. "I pay you to work this place, not gab with your gal."

"Hold on a sec, Mrs. Jones."

I blinked. "You call her darling?" I asked, wondering if he had lost all his common sense.

"Sure! She and I have a great old time," Jeff beamed.

"She's the wrong woman to be getting your jollies off with," I sighed, holding my hand out for the phone.

Myra Jones was Gruber Jones' wife. She and her husband were one third of the Slash J's owners. Grub and I were on alright terms, but the last thing I needed was him coming down here and wanting to have it out with Jeff. He had at least forty years on Jeff, on top of a heart condition. Sadly, Jeff was still severely disadvantaged.

"She wants to know if you can stay after the meeting on Friday?" Jeff asked, not handing over the phone.

"Why are we staying late?"

Jeff shrugged, clearly he didn't know, and it didn't look like he had any intentions of asking. Yeah, I'd remember that.

"Sorry, Mrs. J. I'm still waiting on him to make up his mind." Jeff spoke into the phone. "I know, he can be slow about these things, huh?"

"Tell her I'll stay. And get off the phone already."

"He'll stay, Mrs. J. I'll see you Friday. You take care, too. Buh bye."

Jeff hung up the phone, looking pleased with himself. I just rolled my eyes, picking up the mail on my desk. Jeff leaned back in the chair, just waiting. He was smart enough to know that he still wasn't forgiven for his little phone stunt.

"Any new business, Jeff?" I asked.

"Nah. It's been slow. The only thing I can even think to mention is that we're putting up a Palomino that came in last night. Poor thing was exhausted, and I didn't like the look of his rider. Kinda shifty-eyed."

"Uh huh?" I prompted.

"Yeah. Blond guy. Barely did anything but ask me where the closest bar was," Jeff replied, shaking his head a little. "Kinda looked familiar, but I couldn't place him. And he owes boarding fees before he takes that horse out of here. Bum didn't even have the money to keep him here for a couple days. If it weren't for the fact that we don't turn away horses, he'd have been screwed."

I nodded. I highly doubted Trip had any money if he got all the way here from Del Rio. He was lucky Jeff was such a push over, or he would have had to track me down last night just to get his horse put up.

"Well, sounds like you had an interesting night."

"Ha, yeah. Well, I should get down there and finish up my rounds."

"Before you do, that Palomino will be here for a month at least. It'll be under my awarded boarding budget."

"Ok, Boss," Jeff said, looking a tad miffed.

No matter how curious Jeff was, he didn't stay to ask questions. I was grateful. Things may have been going real slow around here, but when you were the boss, you still had a lot to do. In fact, it was a good two hours later of solid paper work before I was distracted by a knock on my door. Trip leaned on through, a wide smile plastered on his face.

"There you are. I thought summin' mighta happened to you."

"Paperwork happened to me," I replied, stacking the current forms in the right pile. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"I always do." He shrugged, slumping down into the only other chair in the office. "Hope you don't mind, but I kinda wrangled me a job while I was down there."

I held a clipboard out towards him with forms he needed to fill out. "I thought Jeff might offer you a job once you two got to talking."

Trip grinned. "I can see why you're the boss."

I didn't bother replying. I just watched him fill out the paperwork slowly and carefully. Trip had never been to school a day in his life, but Sandy was adamant he could read and write and manage his math well enough. Mamma had schooled the pair of us when she was still alive, with how often we were on the road, it was our only option. When I came to live with Granddaddy, he had insisted that I go to a proper school. While I appreciated the learning I got, Trip didn't know how lucky he was when it came to the workload.

"So, Jeff took to you," I commented, going back to my own work. "Seems like a miracle after the state Cowboy was in last night."

"He let me know how he felt about that," Trip sighed. "But, the man knows good horse stock when he sees it. Decided I had a way with horses, so he even gave me a job. He's a might slow spotting good people, huh?"

Trip was grinning, clearly not meaning the words. I frowned in return.

"Jeff's my head man. You're right – he has a hell of an eye for horses. As for people, he takes a fair bit to warm up to them."

"Kinda like his boss?" Trip chanced, and I shrugged.

"The point is, he's a good man, and he has the seniority here. Get me?"

Trip shook his head a little. "I like him just fine, Buck, honest. You won't have no problems between us two."

I nodded, crossing my last _t_, and dotting my last _i_. I piled the last form in the right place, knowing it would all get filed at some point. With nothing else to do, I watched Trip a bit more. When I first looked at him, I hadn't seen much of anyone in him, only his smile being Mama and Sandy's. He had the blond hair that we all shared with Daddy, and the crease between his eyebrows was Daddy's too. But the dimples around his mouth were Granny's, and he had Mamma's cheekbones. He was what folks would call a "pretty boy". He certainly could have made a living on a movie set somewhere. But I figured it would be pretty easy for Drew Perry to find him if he was in front of a camera.

It took Trip a couple more minutes to fill in the forms, and I noted the messy scrawl. He was going to have to work on his penmanship. Today was not that day, though. It was already noon, and there was a lot to get done back at the bar before the usual crowd showed up.

The plan was that I was going to work on getting the bar together, while Trip sat upstairs and made lunch or watched TV or something. But as it turned out, the kid was more interested in dogging my every step, watching as I cleaned glasses, moved bottles, wiped down surfaces, arranged chairs, checked the fridges, and swept up. I finally sighed and gave him a long look, wondering if he was really that bored because prepping the bar was not an entertaining thing to watch.

"Sorry. Never been in a bar when it was being set up an' all," he offered.

"You shouldn't have been in a bar, period," I told him. "You're not legal."

"You know how the crowd is, Buck," he replied with a bit of a smirk. "If you can ride a bull, you can drink bourbon."

I did know that crowd. The rodeo profession worked hard, and a lot of the younger ones partied hard, too. If you didn't fit in, it could be a lonely place. If you did fit in, you always had a huge base of friends. I could see why my brother would want to fit in. Life with Daddy was lonely enough as it was.

"Not in my bar. If I catch you drinking, I will throw you out."

"Yessir," Trip replied after a long pause.

I sighed, catching the way Trip was looking down at the counter of the bar. He caught the sound and looked up, a small, forced grin on his face. I wouldn't throw him out unless he was drunk, but sometimes you needed to say 'no' instead of drawing a line like that. It went against all the rules I had for minors, too, but Trip wasn't some kid off the street – he was my kid brother, and he was my responsibility. Still, I hated that he was clearly still uncomfortable around me.

"You hungry?" I asked, again not drawing attention to it.

"Starved!" he confessed, looking relieved. "I was wonderin' if you ever ate."

I smirked a bit. Me and food had an interesting relationship. When I was happy, you couldn't fill me up. When I wasn't happy, it was barely in me to work down a sandwich. But when I was busy, I just ate when I had time. I supposed I'd gotten enough done today to work in a late lunch.

"Oh, I can eat with the best of them. Let's head on upstairs and I'll make you something good."

Trip followed me up, and I did cook him something good to eat. But when it came time to open up for business, I left him in front of the TV watching some cowboy show. Opening up for business was normal. And I was a big fan of normal.

Jo and Kim were already sitting down at one of the tables, and it looked like they were just finishing off a to go dinner from the Dingo. They'd taken to doing that lately. I suppose it saved time, what with the bar being on the edge of town.

"Buck!" Cody hollered, waving a sticky looking hand in my direction.

"Hi," I greeted, coming over to where they were sitting. "Jeff coming for him tonight?"

"Should be here any minute," Kim replied, pulling a small hand close enough to wipe with a wet cloth. "But you know Jeff."

"Better than anyone," I added truthfully, sitting down at the table.

"Where's your brother?" Jo asked, cleaning up the dishes.

"Glued to the TV. You'd think he'd never seen one before." I waved it off.

I never did see much use for the TV. It was just there late at night when the bar was closed and the apartment was too quiet and the hum of off air static filled the space. But for Trip, he'd probably never had free range with one before. I knew that was big.

"Will he be coming down?"

"He'll probably pop down once in a while. Why?"

"I thought you'd put him to work," Jo said. "You can trust family."

"Yeah, but he's eighteen. I could get my license pulled."

"We let in kids younger than him," Kim pointed out with a shrug to his wide shoulders.

"For a couple beers and some pool – not to work here."

"What's the difference?"

I frowned over at Kim. That was a dumb question, as far as dumb questions went.

"It's different to have one work here," I replied, not getting into it.

"I'll bet you were younger than him when you started working here," Jo commented.

It was true. But it was different then. Granddaddy was in charge, and there was nothing that crusty old man couldn't do.

"The minute he wants a job, I'll teach him the trade. Until then, your cousin already gave him a job."

"Jeff must have liked him." Jo knew Jeff well, too.

"Two peas in a pod," I agreed.

"You're going to have an interesting time of it then," Kim stated, sending me an amused look.

The table was clear of everything but toy cars. Cody pushed the closest one towards me, looking expectant. Yeah, Buck the head babysitter.

I just hoped I wasn't going to end up babysitting my brother ta boot.

* * *

Well, another chapter down!

Any comments at all are welcome and flames are accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


	12. Chapter 12

Well, another chapter to hopefully end the week on a bright note!

Disclaimer: The usual.

Chapter 11 Old Friends and New Pals

"A play date? Don't you think they're a little old for that?"

I sighed, leaning over the bar a little more, watching Darry Curtis take a sip of his beer. I had asked him to stop on by. It wasn't often that I saw him anymore, but that was just how life turned out. After we'd graduated high school, Darry'd ended up taking custody of his brothers when his folks died. That meant no more football scholarship to wherever it was he wanted to go. So he'd started roofing and got an apprenticeship as a carpenter and floor layer. He made a nice penny now, but I still couldn't get over how much older he seemed. It made me glad I didn't have Trip all to myself after Sandy passed. I felt old enough as it was these days without having to act like it.

"I dunno, Dare. Trip acts enough like a five year old kid, and Buck is about as awkward as a first time papa," Jeff snickered. "Sounds like a play date to me."

I glared over at him. Jeff wasn't invited in on the conversation, but it wasn't often he saw Darry, either, so I didn't begrudge him. Back in high school, Darry had been part of that football crowd, but he'd still made time for Jeff and me because we all grew up in the same social class. Now, we were the only ones still hanging around, but I doubt he thought either of us had grown up, not like he had, anyway. Like I said, it wasn't often we saw Darry.

"You try having an eighteen year old kid dumped in your lap," I replied, knowing Jeff would buckle within a week. It had been just over a week for me, and hell if I hadn't started to buckle.

"No thanks," Jeff declined, shaking his head. "I have my hands full with the horses."

"And I have my hands full with the bar," I replied.

And that was the problem. Trip had spent at least part of every night for the past week down in the bar. It hadn't really bothered me, until I started to pay attention. I expected him to play some pool, get in on the card games, and even make off with the odd drink. I'd just forgotten about why he was here in the first place. Every girl in the bar seemed drawn to him and his bright smile. He was friendly enough, enjoying the attention. But after the past few nights, he'd met them all, and his attention had settled squarely on Syl. And pretty soon, all Tim's attention was going to be on him for it. That wasn't a fight I wanted in my bar.

So I was hoping if Trip found someone in this town to spend time with outside of the bar, he'd maybe leave the trouble alone. I was aware Ponyboy was only sixteen or seventeen, but I figured it all evened out, seeing as how Pony grew up with older friends, and Trip didn't have any friends, so he didn't have much choice in the matter.

"I still don't see why you want him to get together with Ponyboy," Darry redirected, and I shrugged a little.

"He seems like a kid with his head on right. Heck, he's even going to college as soon as he graduates."

"That don't mean nothin'. I'd bet Nixon went to college." Jeff nodded to himself.

"Give the man a break," I sighed, knowing Jeff's opinion about Nixon. I wasn't much of a fan, either, but there was nothing I could do about politics, so I didn't ever bother thinking about them. Things were just the way they were.

"Hey, I'm just sayin' he probably got a great education, Pard."

"Nixon? What...I'm still not sure what you want, Buck," Darry sighed, obviously out of practice when it came to following Jeff's wanderings.

"I want Trip to spend some time with someone around his own age – outside of the bar," I explained. "I remember what it was like to come to Tulsa and have nowhere else to be. Would have never left the place if you two hadn't been around."

Darry nodded a little, looking at his beer like he was remembering the old days.

"And let's face it – it's either Baby Curtis, or Baby Shepard for Baby Merrill to go and hang out with because Buck don't know anyone else's baby brother."

"Jeff," I sighed.

"I'm just sayin'," Jeff defended. "How many times has that little Shepard been in the cooler or Juvi or wherever else he's been sent?"

"I'd skin him," Darry stated, talking about his own brother now. "Grown up or not."

I couldn't comment there. If Trip was in trouble with the law, I doubted it would be up to me to say anything. Daddy probably wouldn't care, or if he did, it would be long enough to scoop up Cowboy and hit the road. Trip'd be let off easy there. If it were Granddaddy, he wouldn't be able to sit straight – arrested or not.

"My Pa would have hung me up by my ears from the tree in the back yard," Jeff chuckled.

"Lucky for him he's a good kid, and that he doesn't have the same Daddy as Jeff," I commented, remembering Jeff's drunk daddy well enough. "So, are we going to get them together or not?"

"I'll talk to Pony," Darry answered. "That's about the best I can promise. He works, and he has his own friends now."

I nodded. "I appreciate it."

Jeff looked between the pair of us, taking a long drink from his beer. After a moment, he slammed his empty bottle down and "ah'd" appreciatively.

"Man, you two are the biggest pair of buzz kills I have ever met," Jeff huffed. "The three of us get together for the first time in forever, and all you can do is talk about your kids. Drink up."

Darry rocked his beer between his hands before taking a pull on it. Jeff looked over at me expectantly. I sighed and took a sip of the bourbon in my glass.

"There, now. Don't y'all feel less old?" Jeff chuckled and I shook my head.

"Isn't he older than us?" Darry asked and I shrugged.

"Give or take a couple failed grades," I replied.

"Hey! Ain't my fault the teachers figured to keep me back," Jeff defended. "And it only happened twice!"

Both Darry and I had to hand it to him there. Jeff was pretty dyslexic, so it was a wonder that anyone gave the guy a high school diploma, let alone moving him up from grade school. It was a good thing that he was wonderful with horses, because most of the time I couldn't make sense of what he wrote. He even had trouble with numbers, but he could tell you anything most people would have to write down to remember. So I told him not to write things. This was why Jeff and I had such a verbal relationship. It had bothered the other owners at first because I had to make up a lot of the paper work, but Jeff was Jeff, and eventually you forgot the technicalities.

Sometimes you had to forget a lot.

I kept that in mind when we were sitting there, drinking like three old friends tended to do when they hadn't seen each other in a long time. Technically we were all grown up, and technically we weren't buddies any more. But then, it was good that we had the chance to just sit and act like we had nothing else going on when everything was on our shoulders.

It was three days later when Darry finally got back to me about getting the kids together. So at the end of the week, I was busy wiping up the bar while Trip was busy upstairs pouting because Ponyboy Curtis was due over here at any time now.

Now, Trip hadn't liked the idea of being sent to go and spend time with someone I'd arranged, heck, he still didn't. We'd had a huge argument over it. His main points were that he was a grown man and he didn't need to be set up, and also that he didn't want to hang out with anyone named Ponyboy. I was sick of listening to it. I went out of my way to do something nice for him, and he was going to appreciate it...or spend the afternoon thinking up how he was going to get back at me. Either way, he would be doing it with Ponyboy because it was two o'clock sharp, and the kid was strolling through the door.

I smiled a little, trying to remember the last time I had seen him. Boy, he'd sure grown up. He was my height, but he had shoulders on him I couldn't match up with. He had Darry's build, but not the same muscle mass. I'd seen him around, mainly when I was over on Pickett buying smokes from the store he worked in, or if I was over at the Dingo for a bite and he was bumming around with his pals, but it was different to have him here in the bar. He'd been fourteen or fifteen when everything had gone down with Dallas, so he had to be seventeen by now. But for a minute, I could almost see that scared, wet kid standing where this tall teen was now.

"Hi, Buck," he greeted, hands in his pockets as he made his way over to the counter.

"Hey, Curtis. Long time no see."

"Yeah. Life's been busy," he pointed out.

I nodded, agreeing with him fully. There was always something going on around here.

"Trip should be down in a minute." I hoped. "Do you want a soda or something?"

"No, I'm good, thanks," he replied, leaning on the bar.

"Thanks for taking him around," I said after a few minutes. I meant it.

"It's no big deal," his ears turned just a little bit red. I'd forgotten how shy he could get.

"Well, it feels like a big deal on my end," I told him. "Just don't let him drag you into any messes."

"I'm sure he's no worse than Two-Bit when it comes to that."

I chuckled then. I'd nearly forgotten he'd grown up with that pesky Mathews.

"Good point."

Right then, Trip came down the stairs, sneakers making barely any noise. I'd had a fight on my hands talking him out of boots and into something easier on his feet if he was going to be hoofing it around town. He'd thank me later.

"So, you're the Pony Boy," Trip said by way of greeting.

I shot him a look because it was a mean greeting. He knew his name, he just felt like being an ass. Trip knew it too, if the look he sent me was any judge.

"Just Pony'll do."

"Trip," my brother supplied, sounding a bit more like a polite human being.

They stood there for a moment, Curtis looking shy, Trip looking at where my old pair of gym shoes hugged his feet. I sighed inwardly. They may not have been little kids, but they sure acted like it. Though, mind you, I was sure little kids would have gotten over the shy bit by now. Maybe it had something to do with the fact I was standing there and watching.

"Well," I spoke, setting my rag down. "You all have fun now."

And I left them standing there, wandering into the back so I could pretend to be busy. By the time I popped my head back out, they were both gone. I sighed a little, hoping it went well. This big brother stuff was a lot harder than I ever remembered it being when Sandy was the one in my shoes. I just hoped I was measuring up in that department.

It was well past supper time when Trip finally wandered in. I was surprised. With how unimpressed he'd been about the whole thing, I'd expected him to be home much earlier. Heck, I'd even been idling at the bar, wasting my day because I wanted to be there when he got in. I was glad Kim and Jo had the day off. The last thing I needed was for one of them to start ribbing me about being like an anxious father. Damn if Jeff wasn't right for once.

"So," I chanced, setting a pop down in front of him. "How'd it go?"

Trip shrugged, running his fingers along the rim of his bottle. "I'm still a might put out that you thought I needed someone to pal around with."

"It's not that I think you can't make friends. I just remember what it was like when I first came here."

"What does it matter? I'll be gone before long."

I sighed, watching as he took a sip of his soda. I had considered that he wouldn't be here long. I had considered that he probably didn't want to make friends while he was here. He probably didn't even want to be here, let alone have reasons to resent the place more when he left. But even though I had considered of all that, I hoped maybe he would make a friend. They were good to have, even if you were leaving.

"Well, while you're here, I'm sure having a friend'll keep you busy."

Trip snorted, glancing over at where Syl and one of her girlfriends were smoking in the corner, and I was sure he was thinking about how she, or maybe all of them, could keep him busy while he was here.

"Yeah," he finally replied. "I'm sure Pony'll keep me plenty busy. We're going to see a movie on Saturday night."

"Good."

"And I swear by everythin' holey in my duffle, I will get that kid up on a horse. He has the figure for it."

I snorted a bit. "I wouldn't go commenting about his figure too loud around here. City folk get a might strange about things like that."

It was true. In the rodeo circles we were always watching each other, sizing each other up. Figures were important. A good rider was lean at the waist, a bit broader at the shoulders, and generally had toned legs. If you started slipping up with your shape, your riding usually reflected it. But if you went talking like that in the city, you were sure to get punched.

"I've noticed. They act a bit titchy." Trip shook his head, like he just didn't get it.

My heart clenched a little at that. "Titchy" was one of Sandy's words. I doubted it was a real word outside the Merrill family. It meant something between "touchy" and "Itchy". It was a good term to describe how city folk liked to act.

"Welcome to Tulsa – Titchiest town I know." I saluted him with my bourbon. "God help us all."

Trip grinned a little, returning my salute. "Amen to that."

* * *

Another chapter down! This one was updated just for Cheap Indifference - who definitely needs some kick-back time! Hopefully, this hit the spot.

Any comments at all are welcome and flames are accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


	13. Chapter 13

Well, another chapter right before Christmas! This one is definitely for Cheap Indifference! Merry Christmas!

Disclaimer: The usual

Chapter 12 It's a Small World

It seemed like I had done something right by introducing Trip to Pony Curtis. All of Trip's time was suddenly filled. When he wasn't at the barns, he was either out with Curtis or parked in front of the TV because he was too tired to do anything else. Now, keeping Trip busy had the effect of freeing up a lot of my time. The bar was working well, the barns were caught up, and I had more help than I knew what to do with for the first time in a long time. So now I had time to work on a project Jeff and I had been putting off for a good long time.

See, back when Granddaddy died, Jeff and I had sat down and come up with some plans for the Slash J brand. We were a small outfit, known for our rodeos, but we'd never built up a breeding stock for what we wanted. We had plans to develop a bucking line, and maybe later a strain of racing horses. But so far, either we'd been too busy or too lazy to make it work. We needed to start in on our plans. Up to this point, we'd been lucky. The rodeo and boarding local horses had brought us in enough to stay comfortable, but we could make much more if we were selective about the horses we bought and bred.

So far, we had three horses that we could build off of, and they were lucky finds Jeff had made. First was Francisco, but we called him Goblin. He was a bright white horse with a mean disposition, but he could run like no one's business. I'd made a lot of money off him, especially back in the day when Dallas jockeyed him. Next was a bay by the name of Dunn. He wasn't as fast as Goblin, but his disposition was a lot better, and he doubled as a bucking horse during the rodeos. Finally, there was Siddalee. The dark yellow Palomino was an agile barrel racer, and when she was ready to be retired, we were hoping to breed her. But that was years off. So we had two males ready to go, one for speed, and the other for bucking, and one female we couldn't use. That was no way to build up equity.

So that was why Jeff and I picked a random Thursday morning to pack up a lunch and drive down to Stillwater. Jeff had heard through the grapevine that they had one hell of a bucking horse just outside of town. He wasn't for sale, but his mean tempered sister was. From what Jeff had heard, no one could even ride her because she was such a nag. In fact, the owners were selling her for practically nothing because they were to the point where they needed to get rid of her or shoot her. Of course, Jeff dismissed that. He'd never found a horse he didn't like. I knew enough to be a little more sceptical. But if we could take this mean horse and use her to build up the bucking line, well, then it would be money well spent. If it turned out she wasn't what we were looking for, all we will have wasted was the gasoline to get down there.

Jeff was humming along to the radio when we finally got there. The pair of us sat in the truck for a whole minute, looking the place over. It looked like it was a well taken care of operation. But you never knew what the stock was going to be like from how the buildings were kept. I said as much and Jeff chuckled. I sent him a look, wondering what he was on about.

"Sorry, Boss. It's just that you always seem to find the cloud behind every silver lining."

I scowled over at him, hauling myself out of the truck. My legs took a moment to settle back into the job of holding me up after such a long drive. Jeff followed a moment later, still chuckling.

"You done?" I asked.

"Yeah. It's just that it was a nice drive, the place is nice, heck, even the weather is nice. And to top it off, we're going to be walking out of here with a horse for practically nothing, and you're a grump about it. If that isn't something to chuckle over..."

"Yeah, well, I manage. C'mon, let's get this over with."

Jeff followed me on up to the main house. I knocked and we waited, hearing several people milling about inside. Finally, a lady in a polka dot dress came to the door, smiling wide with red painted lips that made her teeth look big and white. She looked familiar, but damned if I knew where I would have seen her.

"Why, you must be the men from Tulsa!"

"Why, yes we are!" Jeff piped up.

"My brother is waiting on you down by the barns. Y'all go right on ahead," she directed, pointing in the direction of a big red barn.

"Thank you." I nodded, leading the way.

The doors of the barn were open, letting the smell of hay and horse waft out. It wasn't nearly as big as our barns, so I figured they kept a small group of stock, or they kept a larger herd in the field. Either way, I wasn't interested in more than one horse, so it didn't matter.

"Hey," someone greeted, tilting his cowboy hat higher on his sweaty forehead.

"Are you the boss?" I asked, earning a head shake.

"Boss! Them city people are here. Finally."

"City people?" Jeff asked, eyes narrowed.

"Jeff..."

"I take offense to that, Boss. If not on my account, then on your account!" Jeff hissed.

I sighed. "This isn't some Tulsa turf war. Cool it."

Jeff firmly shut his mouth, giving everyone in the barn a very dirty look for his trouble. But we didn't have to wait long for the boss to make his way over. And when he did, I could have cursed.

Walking towards us was none other than Jackson Wilkes. I hadn't seen him in years, but I'd know him anywhere. He was my height, my build, and right about my speed when it came to everything in the rodeo circles when we were younger. The only real difference between us was where we came from. He was third generation rancher, and I was third generation rodeo tramp. He never let me forget it, either. There hadn't been a moment of peace between us in all the years we knew each other, and I didn't know if things had changed or not.

But now we were right back where we started from, looking each other over, sizing each other up, even after all these years.

"Merrill."

"Wilkes."

"Been a while," he offered, leaning against the doorway.

"A lifetime," I replied.

"A-heh-hem," Jeff coughed unconvincingly.

"Jeff Kelly, meet Jackson Wilkes. We grew up together."

Jeff blinked. "Well, then."

I felt like rolling my eyes. Now I knew what it took to make Jeff speechless.

"Jeff here runs my barns."

Jackson raised an eyebrow at that, like he didn't or wouldn't believe that I owned anything. I wasn't sure which.

"Welcome to the Circle W. Come on with me and I'll show you Paula." Jackson pushed off with his hip and waved us after him.

"Paula?" Jeff wrinkled his nose. "What an awful name for a horse, Boss."

"Change it later, Jeff," I told him.

Jackson led us down to where there was a corral. Inside was a bay mare trotting around, tossing up clumps of dirt behind her. She was moving around like a wild horse usually did when it was enclosed for the first time. I didn't want a wild horse, and I hoped the look I sent Jeff said just that. But it was questionable if Jeff even saw me. He only had eyes for the animal.

"Hello, beautiful!" Jeff whistled, making his way over.

"Don't get too close to her – she bites," the first man who had greeted us warned.

"She won't bite me," Jeff tossed over his shoulder confidently.

"We'll see about that. City fellers taste pretty good!"

"Funny – we city folk think the same about you country folk," Jeff retorted, ignoring the man again in favour of the horse.

"Does he know what he's doing?" Jackson asked, watching warily as Jeff went right up to the fence.

"Yep," I replied with a nod.

I had no idea if he did or not, but one thing living in Tulsa had taught me was that you always supported your people first, especially when you didn't know who you were talking to. Jeff had better not get bit or land on his ass, or I was going to look pretty damn foolish.

Jackson and I stood off a ways, watching. Jeff was only looking her over, for now. I knew Jeff. He wouldn't be content watching for long.

"How's your family?" Jackson asked.

"As good as we ever are." I shrugged.

"I heard about your Granddaddy. Sorry about that."

I shrugged again. What did you say to your childhood rival when he was making an effort to be civil? I noted the wedding ring on his finger and figured I should return his question.

"Thanks. How's your family?"

"Dad's been gone a while, Ma is remarried to a man in town, and I assume Jolene met you when you came in. I got two nephews now, and a whole place to run. It almost makes me miss the old days."

I snorted a little. "Pulled muscles, muddy arenas, stubborn stock..."

"Now it's bills, vets, upkeep, family issues..." Jackson shook his head. "Growing up wasn't all it was cut out to be."

"Tell me about it."

We both watched as Jeff leaned over the fence, Jackson's cow hand watching with trepidation. Paula was watching Jeff, and I could see she was between wondering why he was there and coming over to kick him. It was a good thing there was a fence between them.

"Jack?"

Both Jackson and I looked up towards the house when we heard his name called. A moment later, a pretty redhead started making her way towards us. I felt like crawling into a hole right about then.

Back in the day when we had competed for everything, he won Stella Anderson. I guess she was Stella Wilkes now. God, what else from the past was going to pop up today?

"Hi, honey," Jack greeted, kissing her cheek when she joined us. "You remember Buck Merrill?"

Her eyes widened and I could only nod. She'd been my first crush, and my first kiss. I was sure I was going to marry her some day, and that was a lot of the conflict between Jackson and myself. I doubted Stella ever knew what havoc she caused by being so pretty. I couldn't even get mad at her for it because she always was so nice.

"Buck? It's been forever!" She beamed, looking truly happy to see me.

"A life time," I replied, thinking it really had been.

She didn't reply, just leaned up and drew me into a hug. I blushed then. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been hugged by anyone but Trip. When she pulled back, I offered her a half smile, more than aware her husband was right there.

"It's...uh...nice to see you, Stell."

"So you must be the one who wants to buy Paula!"

"Yep. We're checking her out now." I nodded, gesturing at where Jeff was.

"Well, I hope you like her. Jack keeps saying he's going to forget to close the gate one night."

Jackson just shrugged, grinning a little under the reprimanding look his wife was giving him.

Feeling a bit awkward seeing them being so comfortable with each other, I looked back towards the corral where Jeff was sitting on the top board, looking like he was ready to jump in. I groaned inwardly, excusing myself before making my way over.

"Jeff Kelly, if your cousin hits me, I'm firing you," I warned him in a low voice when I got closer.

"Heck, Boss. She wouldn't hit you, even if I do break my neck. You're the number one babysitter. Besides, I know what I'm doing here," Jeff assured me.

"I sure hope so. Mind hurrying it up a little?"

"This is a delicate process, Boss."

"Delicate process?"

"Well, it isn't something you hurry along, but I'll do my best."

And that seemed to be all the push he needed to climb into the corral with the horse no one liked. The hand who had been jibing Jeff gripped the fence, hissing at him to get his fool ass out of there. Jackson and Stella came up to where I was standing, watching with me as Jeff held his arms out and made his way closer to Paula.

"He's damn insane," Jackson cursed.

I just shrugged. I couldn't discount that when Jeff was doing something insane. Still, it looked like insanity was working. Jeff got closer to the horse, holding out a hand. She danced a bit, ears back in warning. Jeff was patient, cooing at her under his breath. We all held our own breaths when he reached out and touched the horse's nose, hand flat and non-threatening.

Then nothing happened. The horse didn't move to kill him, and Jeff didn't move to do more than make that first connection with the wild beast. Finally, her nose moved and her ears perked in interest. Jeff gently moved his hand up and down her nose as he visibly lulled the horse into pudding. All in all, it probably took him ten minutes.

"There now," I heard Jeff say. "Everything's alright now, pretty girl."

"I don't believe it," Jackson muttered.

"Look at her!" Stella cooed.

I couldn't help but grin a little as Jeff laid a kiss on her face, moving back towards the gate. Paula followed, just like a big old puppy dog. Her ears only went back when Jeff climbed over the slats and jumped down onto the other side.

"You're insane," the hand whistled.

"Bobby," Jackson warned.

"I didn't think a city boy could do that," Bobby continued, as if his boss had never spoken.

"Well, a country boy couldn't."

Jeff said it so matter of factly that Bobby could only blink. Jeff patted him on the shoulder and turned towards me.

"She's perfect, Boss."

"I guess that means we have some negotiating to do," I told Jackson.

Jackson could only nod.

"Well, I suppose you two will be staying for lunch then?" Stella asked, looking between the pair of us.

"I...umm..." I stuttered a bit.

Buying a horse from Jackson Wilkes was one thing, but sitting down to eat with him was another. Especially when you took into account that Stella and Jeff would both be there. Jeff had an annoying way of making things from my past awkward, and Stella...

"I think we'll pa –"

"Why, I think we will," Jeff interjected before I could finish.

"Splendid! I picked up a peach pie from the market that is sweet enough to melt your teeth off," Stella said, reaching to let Jeff take her arm. "Peach is Buck's favourite."

"Is it?" Jeff sounded amused as he escorted her back to the house. "I'll bet you know a lot about the boss from the old days."

"Oh, the stories I could tell!"

I glanced at Jackson, seeing the confused face he was making. I was willing to bet I was making one that looked a might similar.

"I'm not sure I like those two together," he commented dryly.

"That makes two of us."

As it was, Jeff and Stella kept a running commentary through one of the better meals I had in a long while. Jolene got right in on their talk, laughing up a storm while everyone brought up stories I would have rather they forgotten about. Now that I knew who she was, I couldn't stop looking at this woman, and thinking of her as Jo-Jo, the little girl who was always trailing Jackson around. Gone were the pig tails, and she had two children now. Boy, how times changed.

"Well, you remember that time Trip decided he wanted a pet frog, like the one on Bugs Bunny?" Stella laughed, causing Jeff to lean in closer, looking far too amused and interested.

"That sounds like Trip!" Jeff crowed.

"He was just darling when he came up to Buck and asked for a singing frog!" Stella laughed.

"Oh, I remember!" Jolene laughed. "Buck got this look on his face like he was going to either laugh or explode from trying not to."

"He did?" Jeff chuckled. "Well, isn't that nice."

"Instead of explaining that it wasn't going to happen, Buck and Sandy take off looking for a frog, but it's Las Vegas, so they don't know where to start looking," Stella explained. "So they go down to the store and buy a fish."

"Why a fish, Buck?" Jeff asked.

"Frog tadpoles," I sighed. "They look like fish."

Jeff really laughed then. We'd brought the fish so that Trip would think he was raising his own frog. By the time the fish died – because, let's face it, three boys on the road with their dad had no clue how to take care of a fish, so it did die – Trip was more concerned with why his frog was yellow than why it didn't grow legs, hop, or talk.

"It was so sweet," Stella said, sounding reminiscent. "All three of them were sweet together."

She looked over at Jackson then, and I was sure that she was thinking about how she'd like to have three of her own. And that wasn't something I wanted to think about.

"Well, thank you for lunch, but I think we'd better get going," I said firmly, in case Jeff had any arguments.

"But, Boss –"

Alright, firmly was a bust.

"No buts, we should get back on the road," I told him, hoping for once he would just go with it.

"What about Paula?" Jackson asked.

I paused. I guess I had kind of forgotten about her. "What do you want for her?"

"An even hundred –"

"Sold," I cut him off before he got anywhere with that. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the cheque I had tucked away earlier. "Got a pen?"

Jackson just nodded, looking dumbstruck. By the time I had the cheque signed and made out to him, Jeff was shoving the last of his pie into his mouth like I was going to make him leave it behind.

Between Jeff and I, we were ready to leave with our new horse loaded up in the trailer in under ten minutes, all the while I was trying to avoid getting into a conversation with anyone who had the last name of Wilkes. I was more than ready to head home, and heaven help Jeff if he started exchanging phone numbers.

And it wasn't until we hit the road that I finally realised something. Jackson won the girl, and he won the life we wanted, but I'd seen the look on Stella's face and I knew his life was going to be a heck of a lot harder than mine once she had her way with him. Sometimes it was good to lose.

* * *

Well, another chapter down! I got a kick out of that one.

Any comments are welcome, and flames accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


	14. Chapter 14

Dude to some odd moment of uploading, this chapter was not posted, and there are a few things later on that tie into it, so it needs to be posted! Sorry for any inconvenience!

Disclaimer: The Usual

Chapter 13 - Wanting and Belonging

Our drive back was uneventful, but all the same, we didn't get back until after dark. When we did, that horse let us know exactly how pleased she was about the ride. Even Jeff was having a hard time settling her into the barn. I did my best to keep out of the way as Jeff ran her around the arena a few dozen times until she seemed to get most of her irritation out. Finally, we had her in a stall beside Sir. I didn't want that demon anywhere near any horse we didn't own. The last thing I needed was an uppity owner who was pissed because she'd kicked out a knee or bit off an ear or something.

Sir looked less than impressed with how she was picking up her feet and tossing her head. I pet his nose, feeling for him. He wasn't going to have a peaceful night. Even Goblin had his ears back, annoyed by the new upstart. That was just what I needed – Goblin kicking out the back of his stall because he was feeding off Paula's nervous energy.

"She'll settle in just fine," Jeff said, sounding sure of himself.

"Well, she's your project, Jeff," I told him, leaning back against the stalls so I could pet Sir and see Jeff at the same time. "Which means you get to keep her under control."

"Yeah, yeah. You worry too much."

I was about to reply when I felt the familiar brush of a horse's nose along my bare arm. It was so familiar that I didn't think anything of it, until suddenly there was wet pressure and the distinct feeling of teeth breaking the skin.

Now, you might think that because they only ate plants, horses didn't bite. Well, they sure as hell could bite – mostly other horses and the odd threatening thing they couldn't stomp on first. I'd never seen it myself, but I'd heard stories. The one that stuck with me was about a couple of horses that were bucket fed taking off kids' fingers when they were offered something by hand.

Thinking about that made me yank my arm away, which probably made the bite worse than it would have been otherwise. And that was how Jeff ended up driving me back to the bar. The whole while, I was pressing my over-shirt to the bloody teeth marks, cursing at that damn horse.

"Wow, Boss. I never thought I'd live to see the day where you cussed out a lady."

I glared over at Jeff, noting that he was smart enough not to call me his 'pard' right about now. I may just have used my good arm to smack him.

"That beast is no lady."

"You're just sore because she tried to get your attention."

"She didn't want attention. She wanted Cowboy tar-tar."

"She was just...over excited. She really liked you, Boss!"

I glanced at Jeff, wondering what went on in his head. Honestly... "You are one strange man."

"Heck, Pard – you ain't the first to say it!" Jeff chuckled.

And that was why it was usually hard to stay mad at Jeff. His outlook on life and honest view of things were hard to fault, and even then, you felt like smacking yourself upside the head if you did manage to get mad at him.

I shifted a bit, wincing at the wound. "Damn demon horse. If I never see her again, it'll be too soon."

I knew this was part of Jackson Wilkes' plan. Sell me the horse that was going to kill me some day. Yeah, then he'd have his laugh.

"Don't you worry, I'll take good care of Jenny."

I blinked. All the horses we took in got new names because they were starting out fresh with us. They were unofficial outside the barns, but that didn't matter. It was all about making them ours. Sir, for example, was papered as "Gentleman Joe Carbury." The horse was never going to be a gentleman, not with his size, but he sure as hell was a sir.

But Jenny? Why was he giving such a nice name like that to Paula? I asked as much.

"Because she's a Jenny!" Jeff answered like it was obvious. "She's a pretty girl who just needs to be treated like one!"

"Right."

"And what would you call her, Boss?" Jeff asked.

A few not so nice names came to mind, all of which would get me in trouble with the other owners for the profanity.

"Chomper," I finally settled on.

Jeff laughed. "Ok, Boss."

I glared at him. I knew he was just trying to patronise me. "I mean it, Jeff. No pretty names for that fucking man eater."

Jeff really chuckled then, keeping the truck straight somehow. I didn't cuss very often, and clearly Jeff was more amused than I appreciated. And by the time he finally dropped me off, I was ready to throw my boot at him. Instead, I turned towards the bar and put him out of my mind. I was home, and home was a good place to be.

The place was about as busy as it ever was on a Thursday. That was to say that there were a few after work regulars who should have been at home with their wife and kids. I didn't feel like making much of a stir, so I kept on going down the hall into the bathroom. We kept a first aid kit in there. I'd learned that with drinking came fighting, and with fighting came bandaging up boys. I appreciated it right then. All I wanted to do was clean up, get a drink, and try to fend off the urge to donate that horse to a local slaughterhouse...

No, I wouldn't really get rid of the horse, especially after I spent a whole hundred dollars on her, but I was sure tempted.

Reaching under the sink, I pulled out the mostly-neat kit. I had to let go of the wound to do that and I winced a bit as the shirt started pulling loose. Peeling it off the teeth marks was no picnic, and the blood started to ooze again.

There was a tap at the door and I felt like sighing. "There's another head at the top of the stairs."

"I know," Jo replied, stepping into the small room and closing the door behind her.

"Jo," I sighed, picking up my shirt with some half-formed idea of covering up.

"Really, Buck?" Jo asked, eyebrow raised.

I sighed, setting the shirt down. I was wearing an undershirt, so it wasn't like I was running around half naked. Jo just shook her head.

"I didn't think anyone saw me come in," I muttered, dropping my bloody shirt in the sink.

"Mom eyes. Not a lot gets past me," she stated. "Now, what did you do?"

"What makes you think I did anything? I was minding my own business."

"Alright. What happened to your arm?" She rephrased.

"Horse bite," I grunted, running the tap to get the shirt wet.

"A horse bite?" Jo gave me a disbelieving look. "That is the last time you and Jeff are allowed to go anywhere without supervision."

"Might just be the last time I go anywhere near Jeff Kelly," I muttered, using the damp shirt to brush at the wound.

"Here, give me that before you make it worse."

Jo took the shirt from me, dropping it back into the sink, before pulling out a fresh cloth from the kit. I winced a bit as she dabbed at it.

"You got bit pretty good," she offered after a few minutes. "Come on, there's better light in the kitchen."

I knew there was no use arguing with her, so I followed Jo down the hall to the kitchen door. There was a table in there that was hardly ever used, but we were using it now. Jo sat me down before flipping on the lights. She pushed open the door behind the bar to grab a bottle of bourbon. I glanced out the open door and blinked. Standing elbow to elbow behind the bar with Kim was none other than my kid brother. Kim was filling mugs with beer, showing Trip where the line was that kept the drink from spilling over when the foam bubbled up. That was a good trick to know, seeing as how it saved on both profit and mess.

I was up and almost through the door when Jo came back into the kitchen. She sent me a stern look, pushing me right back to the table with a strong poke to my chest.

"He's been helping out all night," Jo explained, pushing on my chest until I sat back down on the bench. "And he has a knack for it."

Jo began to clean up the wound properly, now that she could see it better. I let her for a moment, letting the sting of iodine bite at me, instead of anger. It didn't last long.

"Jo, who the hell is the boss around here?"

"You," Jo replied, blinking in surprise.

"Then why the hell do you never listen to me?"

Jo stopped dabbing at my arm, putting a bit of space between us. I stood up again, stalking over so I could shut the kitchen door. I was in a mood, but I didn't want to advertise it to the entire bar.

"Buck... Is this about Trip working tonight? I don't see why you thought it would be a problem. He's not harming anything."

"I put my foot down, and you just carried on like I didn't say anything! You just do what you want, like you run this place."

She opened her mouth to reply, and I levelled her with a glare, because I wasn't done.

"I let you have your way around here, have since you walked in. Mostly, it's because you do things that work. Partly, it's because I like your company."

She didn't look like she had anything to say that time. She just watched me, waiting for some cue that I wanted her to reply.

"But the bar is one thing. That kid is my blood. You might be able to go around me when it comes to running things down here, but you don't get to go around me when it comes to that kid. Just like I would never go around you when it comes to Cody."

And that was it. The fire in my belly that had been building all day was gone. I sat back down and finished slapping a bandage over my arm. Now that the bite was cleaned and had breathed a bit, it wasn't bleeding, but it was good to have it bandaged to keep clean. I walked over to the sink to get my hands clean and ran my wet fingers through my hair, feeling the last of my energy follow my anger. It only took a moment after that to grab a glass so I could sit down with a slug of bourbon.

Jo was still watching me. She was kind enough to let me empty my glass before she spoke.

"You said that the minute he wanted to work here, you'd teach him the trade. Why does it bother you that Kim and I let him get a taste of it?"

"I don't want him thinking this has to be his life. He's here for a few weeks, then he'll move on."

"You don't want him to stick around?" Jo asked and I shrugged a bit.

"I don't care. If he wants to stick around, he can. I'm not going to kick him out."

I knew he would go on his own after the rodeo in September, and then life could get back to normal. But if he stayed, he wasn't working in here. I didn't want him to be like me. I was just shy of fifteen when I'd been taken in. I'd learned the trade, drank too much, and there was nothing else for me. I didn't want that for him. At least he still had a shot at something with the rodeos.

"So you don't want to waste time teaching him, and you don't want to get rid of him," Jo summed up. "But from what I've seen, you haven't given him much reason to think he's welcome to stay."

"C'mon, Jo. You've worked for me long enough to know I'm about as welcoming as a bear with a sore tooth."

"You keep telling yourself that. But it seems to me that every person you take in around here feels right at home," she pointed out, getting rid of the mess we'd made cleaning up my arm. "Maybe you need to give Trip the chance to feel at home, too."

I didn't bother replying. She was probably right. I filled my glass again and brought the bottle with me into the bar room. I took a seat at one of the far tables and watched the kid work. He seemed to be enjoying himself from how he was smiling and laughing with Kim. Jo joined them a minute later and Trip shared some insight with her that made Jo shake her head at him. They let him serve the drinks that were ordered, and Trip did seem to have some talent for keeping the patrons entertained and getting their orders right. I'd seen worse.

Finally, his eyes landed on me, and the smile faded from his face. He slapped another smile on as fast as the other one had vanished and pointed me out to Kim before he made his way over.

"Hey, Buck."

"Trip."

"I almost didn't recognize you. You look like a home grown Greaser!"

I felt like rolling my eyes. He clearly missed out on seeing this place back in the 60's. Back then, it was leather jackets, boots, and more hair grease than you could imagine ever buying on your own. Sitting around in my undershirt, bare armed, with my hair a little slicked from my fumbling with the water didn't make me look half as tough as those boys back in the day, but I was willing to take the compliment.

"How did your trip go?" Trip asked, sitting down across from me.

"We bought the new mare," I replied, pouring myself another drink. "She doesn't travel well."

"I can see that," Trip winced, catching site of my arm.

"How was your night?"

"Uh..." Trip ducked his head a little. Yeah, busted. "It was fine."

"Uh huh."

"In my defence, I wasn't drinking, an' you never said I couldn't work in here."

"I told Kim and Jo otherwise," I replied, and Trip nodded, knowing this.

"It's just...this is our heritage. I dunno, that probably sounds stupid."

It did, but I didn't bother pointing that out. Trip and I weren't that much alike, but I knew what it was like to want to be a part of something. This was our family's legacy, and I really hadn't considered he'd want to be involved. I hadn't thought about letting him in more before he decided he had to leave. That would just make it harder for him... and harder for me.

"Why didn't you come say this to me?"

"Because I didn't think you'd listen. But I guess it weren't no better to just do what I did."

"No, but it's done. Do you want to work in the bar?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Alright, then."

Trip watched me for a moment, his bottom jaw a little loose. "Alright?"

"Yep. Kim, Jo and I will teach you all of this, and I'll pay you for any night you spend down here working. But I have conditions," I told him, dead serious. "No drinking. And if the fuzz show, you shoot out those back doors and up the back stairs faster than a jackrabbit, hear me?"

"I hear ya. You got nothing to worry about," he assured me and I huffed a little. Yeah, that would be the day...

"This also doesn't get you out of working at the barns. You made a commitment to Jeff."

"Like I'd ever blow that off," he waved.

"Good. So, are we alright then?"

I'd been an ass to him, and it seemed like I was bound and determined to keep putting my foot in my mouth. I just wanted to make sure he knew I was still his brother.

Trip grinned a little and leaned back in his chair a little more, looking like he was completely relaxed.

"We always were, Bucky. By the way, you're paying me for tonight."

I grunted, taking another drink. Trip was watching me and I sent him a look, wondering if he wanted some. He wasn't getting any.

"What?" I asked, watching as he plastered another grin on.

"Nothin'. I should get back there. Don't want to give you a reason not to pay me."

And with that, he was trotting back to the counter. And not for the first time, I wondered what I had gotten myself into.

* * *

Any comments are welcome and flames are accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


	15. Chapter 15

**Note: This chapter was already posted. Due to a mistake in cyberspace, this one and chapter 13 were posted in the wrong order - meaning that there was a missing chapter! Please select chapter 14 from the chapters list, or go back a chapter to read the "new" content. **

Disclaimer: The usual.

Chapter 14 - A Rough Night Out

"How did I let you talk me into this?"

Trip glanced over at me, wide grin plastering his face. "Easily."

I huffed a little. I'd been protesting since he brought this silly idea up. For him to call it easy was clearly either an understatement, or he was just that insane. Either way, I was here.

"C'mon, this'll be fun!" Trip said, patting me on the shoulder.

I hadn't been to a high school football game since I'd graduated. In fact, I hadn't really been interested in them when I was at school. But Trip had pulled this idea out of his hat and I couldn't say no. I honestly thought this was more for him. In all our years of travelling, Sandy and I had never once bothered to take him to a football game, and I doubted Daddy had ever bothered. So this would be the first time seeing a game that wasn't on a TV screen. I could tell he was excited, but that he was also awed by the whole thing. Aside from the rodeo, I don't think he'd ever seen so many people all in one place before.

This was one of the first football games of the season. It was nearly the end of August and all the welcome back hoop-la had settled down a little, but the school spirit was so thick you could almost taste it. Trip and I had managed to squeeze our way up to one of the higher risers, finding enough room on the end of one to sit and be comfortable for the game. Around us, teens were cheering, yelling, jumping around, and acting like idiots. To be fair, there were some people there that were older than I was – mostly guys who had played on the team before they graduated, and parents of kids on there now. No one looked at us like we were out of place, but I was feeling a little out of my element.

"This is fun?" I asked him, watching as he lit up with a chuckle.

"Hell yes. If this is how things go before it starts, you can bet it'll be one hell of a show when the game really gets going," Trip assured me.

I was about to tell him exactly what I thought of that when he suddenly stood up and pressed a couple fingers up to his lips. I barely had enough time to cover my ears before he let out a whistle that would have made the best wranglers jealous. The crowd settled for a moment, everyone looking right at my kid brother. And that was probably just what he wanted.

"Pone! Up here!" he hollered.

I felt like an old man, squinting down at where Pony Curtis was making his way up with a pretty girl holding his hand. Well, so much for it being a Merrill family night out.

"Hey," Pony greeted. "Trip, Buck – this is Cathy."

"Hi, Cathy," Trip greeted. "If I knew you were bringing someone so pretty, I would have dolled Buck up a bit."

I cut a glare at my brother, but he was busy grinning like he was the most entertaining thing in the world. Pony was blushing a little and his date was smiling like she was flattered. They were all standing around and was all they were going to get around to at this rate.

Teenagers.

"Ya gonna sit with us?" I asked, causing both Pony and Cathy to look a bit more sheepish.

"If there's room," Cathy replied, looking at the mass of people sitting down already.

"Of course there's room!" Trip replied, motioning for the teen beside him to move down.

Somehow, we found some room. Still, Trip and I were practically glued against each other. I was just glad I was right on the end of the bench.

"So, who're we playing?" Trip asked, clapping his hands together.

"Stillwater," Pony replied.

I shut my eyes for a moment, keeping my groan in. I still had those bite marks on my arm from that damn horse, and the last thing I needed was more Stillwater.

"Go team," Trip rooted, nudging my shoulder to get my attention.

"Yeah, go team."

As it was, the game was pretty uneventful. There were only three touchdowns, and the players were terrible. It was a bad year for both sides – I hoped. But all through the game, Trip was asking questions...

"The guy with the ball is who?" Trip asked, pointing to the quarterback for the third time.

"The quarterback," I replied.

"He throws it, right?" Trip asked and I nodded. "Then why's he runnin' with it?"

"They can do that, too."

"Oh. Then why do they need that other guy to catch the ball? He could be sitting on the bench ogling the cheerleaders!"

I sighed. "Even if you could run a play without a receiver, it would be a giveaway. Do you even watch the games when you're busy staring at the TV?"

"I don't get it when it's on the squawk-box, either." He shrugged and turned his attention back to the field.

I figured that was true if he was asking me all the technical questions now. I just wondered why he was leaving Pony alone. I leaned back a bit, looking over his way to see that he was curled close to his girl, talking with her. It didn't look like either of them even knew there was a football game going on. No wonder Trip kept turning this way. He may not have had Pony as a friend for too long, but he certainly knew that he wasn't going to keep him long if he kept asking him questions while the guy was on a half-assed date.

"Why d'ya think they call it a football?"

Brothers apparently weren't going to go anywhere if you asked them questions until they killed you, though...

"Because they do."

"But, I seen it kicked twice all game. After that, it's carried and thrown."

"I don't know what to tell ya. I know horses and booze."

"You seem t' know everythin' else about this game."

"Ask Curtis then," I offered, focusing back on the last two minutes of the game. Stillwater was up by three and I doubted Will Rogers would catch up with how they were playing.

"Nah," Trip sighed a little. "He's plenty busy."

I glanced at my brother, seeing he was pouting ever so slightly. I wondered if he was feeling like some odd third wheel. Again, I felt like sighing. Teenagers.

"Hey, after this, how about you and me grab a coke and some fries before we head back?" I suggested, watching as the pout disappeared so he could beam at me.

"How about we head on over to the Ribbon after!"

I frowned. The Ribbon was all bars, pool halls, and dance spots. All of that happened at my place. I didn't have a reason to go anywhere. Trip didn't have a reason to want to go anywhere else except boredom and some itch in his britches to see everything there was to see. I was going to say as much, but the hopeful look on his face made me pause.

"Let's eat first, then we'll talk about it," I compromised.

Trip grinned, already knowing I'd probably give in, just like I'd caved on this football game. Whoever thought I was hard to push around clearly had never met Trip. Same went for everyone else who thought I was easy to push around. That kid could make me cave faster than anyone else alive ever could. I should have been more worried about that than I was, but he was my brother, and I didn't really want to think about it.

I barely paid attention when the game was over. I was right, the ball didn't move enough to change the score, and Stillwater crushed the home team. The crowd seemed subdued by this, but if there was one thing we all knew, it was that they would just get geared up for the next game and the energy would be right back where it had been for this one.

"Wow, that was great," Trip chirped happily.

"We lost," Ponyboy pointed out, arm around Cathy's shoulders again as we waited for the crowd to thin before we headed down ourselves.

"Hey, you know what they say – see ya next race," Trip offered.

I smirked a bit at the confused look on Curtis' face. He clearly wasn't a rodeo kid. Basically, Trip meant that next time it wouldn't be so easy to win because the loser would be training harder than ever for a chance to even the score. I sure hoped it worked that way for football.

"Hey, y'all want to come with Buck an' me to get a bite?" Trip invited.

Curtis glanced over at me, ducking his head a little, and then looked over at his girl. I didn't blame him – you didn't want to bring your girl out with your buddy and his older brother. This was the point when he should be taking her somewhere more private, woo the lady.

"Nah, I have to get Cathy home," Curtis excused.

"You sure? It's pretty early," Trip pointed out, looking pretty earnest.

"If there's one thing I learned in all my years, it's that you can't keep a girl's daddy waiting and expect to live," I told my brother seriously. "We'll make due on our own."

"Alright," Trip agreed, still giving Curtis that sad look.

"Am I so bad?" I asked, hoping to cheer him up a little bit.

"Hell yes," Trip teased with a grin. "Let's get goin', Buck!"

I shook my head, following after my brother. I couldn't get over how full of energy he was. He'd spent the morning at the barns, the afternoon in the bar, and even after all the energy from the game, he was still bouncing around. I wish I knew his secret. I'd bottle it and make a fortune.

Now, what I envisioned as a couple burgers and a walk around The Ribbon before heading home to bed turned out to be something else completely. After burgers at the Dingo, we made it down to the Ribbon. Trip parked the car outside a pool hall that caught his attention, and the next thing I knew, we were standing in a dimly lit room, looking around. I'd never been in this place before, and I wasn't so sure I liked it. But Trip was about as excited as I'd ever seen him, so I was willing to give it a go. The place was smoky, on top of being dim. The people moved around like they were out of focus because of it, and it all reminded me of a distant memory. I shook it off and stepped more fully into the room, glancing at where Trip was looking around like he hadn't seen anything this amazing in a long time.

"You want to play a game?"

Why else were we here? Honestly, the kid got some odd ideas sometimes...

"Sure, rack 'em up," I told him with a shrug.

Trip practically bounded over to the nearest table, pulling down a pool cue for both of us. I held onto mine, watching as Trip arranged the balls. When he finally straightened up, I was surprised by the smirk on his face.

"You wanna break?"

"No, you go ahead."

"Suit yourself." he shrugged, leaning over the table and giving the cue ball a firm tap.

The balls broke apart, several going into the pockets. Trip looked the table over before declaring he was stripes, and taking another shot. Each shot he made was perfect and I leaned on my cue, watching his form. He shot left-handed, even though I had seen him do everything else with his right. He leaned in and smoothly calculated shots in moments, moving the game along with a fast pace. It wasn't until there were only two stripes left on the table that he scratched his shot and it was my turn. The smirk he had been wearing all game was still firmly in place. He was pretty confident he was going to beat me.

Taking my time, I lined up my first shot, sinking two balls, and Trip's smirk faded a little. I sunk another shot, watching my brother droop even more. It wasn't long before I was lining up the eight ball and Trip was looking very put-out.

"How'd you do that?" Trip asked when all the balls were sunk.

"I live in a bar with two pool tables," I reminded him, placing the rack back on the table for another game.

"So? You living in bar doesn't mean anything," he groused.

"And before that, Sandy and me hustled pool," I added. "You should know that – we used to take you with us all the time."

"Say, that is right," he admitted. "I used to get a kick out of it. But as I recall, Sandy did the playing, and you did the acting."

I nodded. If Trip was good, and I was better, then Sandy was a pro. When the two of us had to hustle pool, it usually meant we were out of money and the kid needed to be fed, so I left it in his capable hands.

"You know, with all the money you lose playing poker, you should change your game to pool," Trip advised, watching as I broke for the next game.

"I don't lose that much.

"Oh, yes, you do," Trip chuckled.

I gave him a look and we went back to playing, finishing off another few games before Trip leaned back on his cue.

"Well, I'll tip my hat to you, Buckers. You done showin' me up?"

"I can keep wiping the floor with you all night," I told him. "But we can go home if you're done being whooped."

"How about we get a drink?" he suggested.

I shrugged and followed him over to the pool hall's cantina. I was sure they didn't have a liquor licence, but they were pouring drinks. The place wasn't all that busy, but I assumed it was like my place. There was the usual crowd that always came around and they floated business until the weekend when the real money would come in.

"Dos beers, por favor," Trip directed.

The man dishing out the booze looked Trip over sceptically, but I nodded him along, and I suppose he wanted my money more than he wanted the trouble. Trip flashed him a grin before bringing the bottle up to his lips.

"One and only one," I told him firmly, sipping from my own.

"You're a kill joy sometimes."

I shrugged. So what? He wasn't legal, so I got to make the rules. Besides, I dealt with drunks on a regular basis and I wasn't about to let my kid brother be one of them while I was standing here.

"Hey, I think I just had an idea," Trip commented a couple minutes later.

I glanced up, following Trip's gaze to where two guys had just walked through the door. I didn't know them, which meant that they were from the north side or they were out of towners. Either way, I didn't like the look of them. They looked like they could easily kill us and dispose of the bodies somewhere no one would find us.

"And just what would that be?" I asked as they racked up a table.

"C'mon, I want to play one more game before we leave."

I sighed, following Trip back to the table we had been playing on all night. Trip was practically bouncing as he moved to rack up the table and it gave me a bad feeling in my gut. When he glanced over at the guys at the next table before bending his arms like he'd never held a cue before, I caught on. I'd seen him play, so when his shot barely broke the rack, I knew he was playing a new and very stupid game.

"Trip," I warned.

"C'mon, you and Sandy used to do this all the time," he waved me off, taking another weak shot.

I glared at him then. Sandy and me only did this when Daddy was broke and we were all starving or likely to starve. We never pushed trouble when we could avoid it. However, Trip had a reckless streak, and it was very likely to get him killed some day.

But he had caught the attention of the guys at the next table, and it only took two more flimsy shots before they came over. I didn't like it, but it looked like it was too late to back out now.

And that's how we ended up in a game with Wyatt and José. Wyatt was bigger, clearly more of a fist fighter. José was the kind who looked more likely to pull a knife if he was backed into a corner. And Trip was acting like he was fresh out of the country. If someone from Reader's Digest had have been walking by, they would have been able to print a much more amusing picture of the whole thing. It sure wasn't amusing from where I was standing.

"Me an' m'brother here are just passin' through. It seems like a good town. Y'all from around here?" Trip gabbed.

"Yeah," Wyatt grunted. "You want to break?"

"Yeah," I replied, figuring we had to do this right.

Trip beamed at me, watching as I broke poorly to further thread the bait. Wyatt smirked and José lined up the next shot. We were solids. It took two more shots before he scratched and Trip started in with his chicken impression while he took a shot. I thought he looked absolutely ridiculous, but that was probably the point.

"How about we make this interesting?" Wyatt suggested, scratching a shot, and pulling a twenty from his pocket.

"Boy howdy," Trip gaped. "Never played for money before. What d'ya think, Buckers?"

"You got twenty whole dollars to match him, Tripkin?"

Trip scowled at the nickname. "Yeah, I have the money, thanks. You're on!"

Trip slapped down a few bills, puffing up again, and nodding at me to take my shot. I knew how to play this game, so I sunk my first shot, and missed the second. And that was how the game went. Of course we lost that one, and the next. By that point, double the money was on the table, and both Trip and Wyatt reached to throw down another twenty.

Trip caught my eye and I nodded a bit. It was my turn to break, and I did it expertly for the first time since we'd started playing. I sunk a string of shots, and by the time it was Trip's turn, he was left with only the eight ball.

"I cain't believe we did it," Trip crowed, laying on the accent thick. "That was one heck of a game!"

"We're not done," Wyatt declared, racking up the table again.

"But we are," Trip told him.

"No," José growled. "We're not."

"Listen, Pard, I think me an' my brother have had enough," Trip replied with a frown.

"We're not looking for trouble," I threw in.

"You bought it," Wyatt prickled and I couldn't see a way out of this.

If this had happened when I was playing with Sandy, I would have grabbed the cash and ran, trusting that Sandy would be right behind me. With Trip, I was short on options. If I ducked out, I had no reason to think he could get out behind me.

From the look of things, either we backed down and lost out on all the money Trip had laid down, or we were looking at a brawl. I could brawl with the best of them, but I didn't need any more teeth getting knocked out. I rocked my two false front teeth with my tongue and hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Trip was already watching José closer, so I knew if we did fight, it would be me and Wyatt. As soon as Trip made a move towards the cash, José pounced, punching him across the jaw. I had a moment to wince before Wyatt tried to do the same to me.

Now, I'd ran a bar for the better part of four years, lived in one longer than that, and grew up on the rodeo circuit before that. I could handle this. So when Wyatt threw his punch, I leaned out of the way, grabbing his wrist and yanking him into a punch of my own. Blood gushed from his nose and I didn't pause to let him get his bearings. My knee connected with his gut twice before I let him drop to the ground. He coughed, wheezing, and I knew he had to be hurting.

"You take a minute and think on how I'm going to top that," I advised, glancing over in Trip's direction.

My heart stopped for a moment when I caught sight of him. I was right about José being more likely to pull a knife than have a fist fight. José had a switch pulled out, and the only thing keeping it away from Trip's neck was the firm hand he had wrapped around José's wrist. He looked intensely focused, but his eyes were shining with excitement. Damn kid.

Before I could move, a punch took me by surprise, catching my jaw in a clipped motion. I spun towards where the hit had come from and saw three guys looking to jump in and get rough, too. Great. Looked like Wyatt and José had friends after all.

I tossed myself back into the fight, placing hits for the maximum amount of hurt. I was aware that a couple more guys had arrived and I was starting to feel like we'd bitten off more than we could chew. I was still throwing punches when someone started doing the same on my right side. I nearly punched Sodapop Curtis before I recognized him. He was punching one of the five or six guys who had turned up out of nowhere, looking like he was having a pretty good time. And then, suddenly it was all over. There were three guys on the floor, and I assumed the rest had run off. That left me standing there like an idiot.

"Boy, Buck – you've gotta get out more often," Soda chuckled, panting, but looking happy.

"Right." That was a matter of opinion.

"Hey, Buck," Steve Randle greeted. From the trickle of blood coming from his lip, I knew he'd been right in the fight with us.

"Randle," I greeted.

"You're lucky we were in the neighbourhood," he added, wiping at his mouth.

"Thanks. What were you doing here, anyhow?"

Randle grinned and Curtis chuckled a little.

"We were just wondering the same thing about you," Curtis said. "We were out on a date with our gals, and here we run into you."

I glanced over at where two girls were standing by the wall, watching us like we were crazy. Yeah, that about summed up girls. I glanced at the three guys on the floor, figuring I was lucky that Curtis and Randle had shown up when they did. I nudged the sleeve on one of the groaning bodies and sighed when his Tiger tattoo looked right back at me. Those boys were not people I liked to mess with – they were plenty rough.

Speaking of being rough, I went over to the table where Trip had been fighting with José. José was one of the three still down for the count, and Trip was sitting on the table with a dirty cloth pressed against his neck. I tilted his head up and pulled it away, examining the wound that had been staining the cloth red. The cut wasn't as bad as I had been picturing in my head, but it was still a pretty good cut.

"You're going to give yourself an infection," I growled, tossing the cloth off to the left, and replacing it with the clean hanky I'd tucked in my pocket that morning.

"Thanks," Trip huffed, trying to lean away from the pressure I'd put on the cut.

"You proud of yourself?" I asked, half tempted to knock some sense into him for all the trouble he'd caused here tonight.

Trip grinned at me and I could see a black eye starting. He was even a little punch drunk, swaying slightly as he reached into his pocket, tugging out the money that had been on the table when the fight started. I blinked at it for a moment before I felt my own grin tug at my lips.

"Well, thank Christ for your sticky fingers," I laughed.

"Keep that in mind if I get in trouble for that in the future," he chuckled back.

"So, you two gonna be ok if we get going?" Randle asked and I shrugged.

"Yeah, we're fine." I waved him off, leaning against the table beside my brother.

"I do think you should get out of the bar more often – this was fun," Curtis pointed out.

"Ha, after this I doubt Buckers is ever leaving the bar again," Trip threw in.

He had that right. Things like this never happened in my bar. Well, at least not to me.

"Speaking of which, you're not dying on me, so we should get back home," I pointed out, smacking my brother on the shoulder.

"Aww, Buck – the party's just gettin' started!" he moped.

"Home," I replied, hauling him up off the table.

He leaned against me, pressing the hanky firmly to his neck, before grinning over at Soda and Steve. "Thanks for the help."

"Hey, anytime." Curtis smiled.

"No one beats up our bartender, eh Buck?" Randle grinned.

"Right. Next time you're in the bar, first round's on the house," I promised, tugging Trip towards the door before they could get yapping the whole night away.

Once we were outside, Trip was literally touching noses with me so he could stare at me. I pulled back a bit, giving him a look I hoped got across that I wasn't a big fan of being stared at.

"What?"

"I got cut."

"I noticed."

"And all I could think while I was sittin' there on that table was that it was nothin' in comparison to what you were gonna do to me," he admitted. "But you were pretty tuff in there."

I sighed and leaned Trip up against the side of our car so that I could fish the keys out of my pocket. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and noticed he looked pretty content. That was the first time I'd seen him content since he'd gotten here. Sure, I'd seen him happy, bashful, sad, wary, tired, mad, and even irritated. Content was something new.

"I like this you," he chuckled after a minute.

"There's only one me, kid," I told him, unlocking the door for him. "Get in. I need a drink."

Trip didn't protest, climbing in. I let myself scowl when Trip couldn't see me. He was right. I would normally have his ass for something like this. But he looked content, and it just wasn't in me to make that look go away right now. And besides, with how sore he was going to be tomorrow, he didn't need me adding to it. But if he ever pulled me into something stupid like this again, I was going to break his nose. Stupid kid...

And I knew right then that somewhere up there, Sandy was grinning his ass off.

* * *

Well, another chapter down! This one actually sets up a bit more of the Trip/Buck brother relationship, so I hope you all enjoyed that!

Any comments are welcome and flames accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


End file.
